Dear Readers
This is the first chapter of a new story. First I would like to thank Holly for her editing and guidance, as it is obvious that I did not pay as close of attention in English classes as I should have. Secondly, I would like to offer an advance warning that this story delves into a very dark world of human slavery and brutality. Though this story is completely fictional the inspiration for it comes from people that I have personally known, and listened to their stories. There will be no scenes of explicit brutality or sexual abuse included, except where they can’t be avoided, but reference to the effects that such activities have on others will be addressed. As with all of my stories, I will strive for a happy ending, and you may actually find this to be a love story. However, it is a love story that starts in the darkest corners where there is no limit of the evil that man will do to his fellow man for pleasure or gain.

The Princess of the Desert

By Melodie Thomas

Edited by Holly Hart

Chapter 1
Wednesday August 13, 2008
I filled my second cup of coffee for the morning and returned to my desk. The name plate on the desk read Daniel McNeil but I mostly go by Dan. I am a Special Agent with the FBI working out of the Residence Office in Tucson, Arizona. As for a description of myself, which I hate giving, I am 6’2” and 200 pounds. I have blue eyes and brown hair that stays combed but above my ears. As far as physical conditioning is concerned, I can pass the FBI physical requirements and I am not overweight. I will leave it at that. I am 32 years old and have been with the FBI for 8 years.

My partner, Tina Warline, was on the phone at her desk in an ongoing debate with her 14 year old daughter about what attire is proper to wear to school. At 5’6” and around 125 pounds (I never asked) Tina was a 36 year old mother of 2 and a 10 year veteran of the FBI. She was married to a very successful doctor and really did not need to work. However, she felt it was her duty to try to make an impact on society and felt the FBI was the place to accomplish that. I think she was just trying to get a break from the previously mentioned 14 year old daughter.

I was just about to sit down to the endless pile of paperwork on my desk when my cell phone rang.

“McNeil!” my standard warm greeting.

“Dan, Bob Mitchell” Bob is a Captain with the Arizona State Police based out of Tucson. We had worked together many times.

“Hey, Bob, what’s happening?”

“Lot of shit, all of it bad.” Bob responded. His voice sounded stressed. “We have another branded transsexual body drop.”

“Shit, where?” I responded as I wadded up a piece of paper and threw it at Tina, trying to get her attention.

“Off of South Madera Canyon road. The good news is this one is alive so far.”

Tina had gotten off of the phone and slid her chair over to my desk. “Hang on a sec, Bob, Tina is here and I want you on speaker”. I set my cell to speaker mode and set it on the desk.

“You said this one is alive?” I repeated

“Barely, but yes, alive. Air rescue is enroute with an ETA of 10 min.” Tina was grabbing her jacket and shield. “Seems, a couple local gun nuts were hunting rabbits out there on 4 wheelers. They came over a ridge and spotted a red pickup with 2 guys in the back dumping something out of a tarp. When the truck left, our two heroes went to investigate and found the body and called it in.”

“Is the scene secure?” I asked as I grabbed my jacket.

“Not really, but we are working on it. Of course the 4-wheelers ran over some of the tire marks of the truck and air rescue will trample things a little, but I have people on site and more on the way.”

“Thanks Bob. We are 2 hours out and rolling now.”

“Okay buddy, keep me posted.”

“You got it.” I ended the call and chased Tina out the door.

This was the second such body dump in Arizona in the last 6 months. The first body had been discovered about 100 miles out of Phoenix six months ago. Medical estimations were the body had been in the dessert about 3 weeks before it was found and was in pretty bad condition, thanks to weather and various animals. The Arizona State Police handled that case, for the most part, but were unable to develop any leads on a) who had dropped the body or b) who the body was. Finger prints were totally destroyed by the elements and dental records were a dead end. The only identifying mark that was recognizable on the body was a brand burned into the right buttocks that read ‘Slut21’.

The case was put on the national database for possible MO matching and got a hit almost immediately. There’d been a similar case in New Mexico about a year earlier with a similar brand, but with the same results at finding the culprit, or the identity of the victim. With multiple states involved and a theory developing that this might have something to do with a human trafficking activity, the FBI got involved. Tina and I were given the case from a research standpoint since there were no new leads in either Arizona or New Mexico. We summarized the cases and published to Interpol. We had three new hits within a week. There had been reported similar cases in France, Germany and Brazil, all with a male to female transsexual body found in some isolated location, and in every case, the time between when the body was dumped until it was found was quite large. However, in every case the body exhibited a brand on the right buttock that contained the word ‘slut’ followed by a number.

The consensus of opinion of the experts in the law enforcement agencies of the affected countries, and others that just wanted their opinion heard, was we were looking at an international human trafficking and/or slavery operation. Coincidences of this size in four different countries were hard to ignore. There was also a fear that the numbering on the brands had a sequential significance and if true, there were still a number of possible victims involved. So far we had accounted for numbers 9, 12, 16, 19 and 21. The latest victim, at least reported by the on scene officers, displayed the brand of ‘Slut24’. If the sequencing was a true counting method, then there were still 19 possible victims that either had not been found or were still being held captive somewhere.

During our 2 hour drive out to Madera Canyon we stayed in constant phone contact with the site commander, Sergeant Robert Mendez of the Arizona State Police. The Air Rescue team had arrived, stabilized the victim the best they could and were in the process of transporting the victim back to the University of Arizona Medical Center. The victim was not conscious, and based on the on-site team’s evaluation, was in very critical condition. There was nothing for us to gain by meeting the victim at the hospital, so we decided to continue to the dump site.

Two hours later we were on Madera Canyon Road. Finding the crime scene was not difficult. It looked like a police convention in the dessert. Yellow crime scene tape was stretched around the area, hanging from cactus, rocks and anything else tall enough to hold it. Our FBI credentials where hanging from lanyards around our necks and we wearing our FBI windbreakers as we searched for Sergeant Mendez. We were directed to an officer talking to two gentlemen in desert camouflage clothing sitting on two 4-wheelers.

“Sergeant Mendez?” Tina spoke first as we approached “Agents Warline and McNeil, FBI.”

Mendez reached to shake hands with Tina first and then me. “Bob Mendez. I was just talking with the gentlemen that saw the pickup.”

Turning back to the men on the 4-wheelers Mendez asked “Why don’t you repeat for the Agents what you just told me, along with your names.”

Both guys were young, probably in the mid to early 20’s. One was definitely of Mexican heritage the other was Caucasian. The Caucasian spoke first.

“I’m Skeeter Baines and this is my hunt’n partner Roberto Sanchez. We were actually out here hunt’n coyotes since really early this morning. Just run’n the bikes from ridge to ridge and glass’n. We came up over that ridge over there,” pointing off to the east, “and spotted the truck down here. At first we thought they was dump’n garbage, cause that happens around here a lot and it is illegal and ruins the country. We thought we would come down here and get his license number and turn him in. Then we saw them flip something out of a tarp and …”

“And I almost shouted,” Roberto cut in, “that was a body!”

“How did you know it was a body?” Tina asked.

“Cause I swear I saw arms and legs as it rolled out.”

“What did you do next?” Mendez asked.

“Shit,” Skeeter took over. “We quickly backed off the hill so they couldn’t see us.”

“Why didn’t you continue to try to get the license number?” I asked.

“Dude!” Skeeter continued “if they was dump’n a body in the desert. they weren’t no kind of people I wanted to screw with.” Skeeter looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Those boys probably had guns!”

“Didn’t you have guns?” I continued to press the point

“Hell yea we had guns,” Roberto jumped in “But you Police are always rag’n on us not to get involved in these things. We’re supposed to observe and call you. That is what we did.”

Well, they had me there. That is exactly what we keep preaching to the gun toting public. Unless it is your life in danger, call the Police and let them handle it. They did just what they were supposed to do.

“Okay,” I said. “Good answer. Then what happened?”

“We sat up there,” Skeeter was back with the story, “and watched until they left. Then we hauled butt down there to see what was goin’ on. We drove up on the naked body of a chick lay’n face down in the dirt. At first we thought she was dead, but then Roberto noticed the sand moving away from her mouth.”

“Yea” Roberto jumped in “just faintly but I could see the sand move. She was still breath’n! So I told Skeeter to jump on the cell and called 911.”

“What did you do to help her?” Tina asked.

“Nothin I could do,” Skeeter stepped in. “I ain’t no doctor, and I would probably make things worse. Felt kind of helpless if you know what I mean.”

Even though they did not sound it, there were some pretty smart boys.

“First cop,” Roberto picked up the story, “showed up about 20 minutes later and he checked her then covered her with a blanket. About 15 minutes later more cops showed up. They finally decided to roll her onto another blanket to get her off the ground. That is when we first saw that she was not a she!”

“Yea,” Skeeter joined in. “Damnest thing to see a body like that with a wiener.”

We talked to Skeeter and Roberto for about another 15 minutes, but other than seeing a red pickup and calling 911 they didn’t really bring a lot more value. Mendez took us for a tour of the area which was not much value either. The tire tracks from the Pickup, no foot prints other than our coyote hunters and no other trace evidence picked up anywhere by the crime scene boys. Apparently whoever our dumpers were, they were smart enough not to leave anything behind. No foot prints meant they moved from the cab of the pickup to the bed and back again without touching the ground. Kind of sounded rehearsed.

We spent around 2 hours at the dump scene before starting back for Tucson. On the way back to town we called the University Medical Center to check on our victim. We found the attending Physician was Mathew Gibson MD, Our victim was still in surgery and not expected out until late this evening, the victim had not regained consciousness yet and if we could wait until morning we could meet with Dr. Gibson and get a full rundown. We made an appointment with Dr. Gibson for 9:00am the next morning and headed back to the office.

Thursday August 14, 2008
At 8:50am the next morning Tina and I entered the main entrance of the UAMC and got directions from the main receptionist on how to get to the Intensive Care Unit. After a short elevator ride we found ourselves at the ICU nurses’ station where we were directed to ICU #3. Opening the door to ICU #3 we found ourselves in sort of an anteroom that separated the hallway from the actual patient area. In the anteroom area we found a mid 50’s gentleman with balding gray hair sitting at a computer terminal. Standing next to him was a tall and slightly overweight nurse with salt and pepper hair.

“Dr. Gibson?” I asked.

Without turning around he slightly raised his right hand “I will be with you in a moment.”

The nurse stepped around towards us and extended her hand “Hi, I am Marsha Stewart, head ICU nurse. Please do not confuse me with Martha Stewart and no, we are not related.” She smiled as she spoke. Obviously it was an often used joke.

Tina shook Nurse Stewart’s hand while I looked through the window at the patient within.

“Is it going to live?” I asked almost absently.

“IT?” Nurse Stewart responded with a very sharp edge in her voice. Even Tina kind of nudged me with the ‘watch your language’ signal.

“I am sorry,” I tried to recover. “No disrespect meant. I am just not sure what gender reference to use in this case.”

“Well,” Dr. Gibson joined without looking up from his computer, “based on physical appearances I would say our victim is 98% female. There is only one obvious appendage that gives any indication that at one time ‘SHE’ was male and that appendage is much atrophied. Internally I would say ‘SHE’ is about 50% female. Obviously ‘SHE’ does not have the female reproductive organs, but much of ‘HER’ bone structure is very feminine as opposed to totally masculine. So, to rephrase your question in its proper context ‘Will SHE live?’ That answer is, I don’t know yet.”

Dr. Gibson pushed himself away from the computer and turned to face me. “I am assuming you caught the context there?”

“Yes sir, and I apologize.” I was really not sure if I meant that or not.

“I will tell you one thing,” Dr. Gibson continued, “somebody really didn’t like that girl in there very much.”

“What do you mean?” Tina asked.

“Come down to my office with me and I will catch you up on what we know.”

Dr. Gibson pulled a page off of a printer next to the computer and attached it to a clipboard. Handing the clipboard to Nurse Stewart “Please make sure someone is with her at all times and notify me of any changes. Also, please contact Psychiatric and have someone on standby, preferably Dr. Rienfelt.”

“Yes Doctor.”

Dr. Gibson stood and motioned us to follow him. We exited the anteroom and went down the hall past the nurses’ station. Dr. Gibson opened a door with his name painted on the glass and motioned us in. The room was quite small and cluttered. The was a large desk in the middle with a computer station, two chairs in front of the desk, and books and papers stacked everywhere. On one wall was a large white board with picture clips at the top. On another wall was a large lighted glass display for viewing x-rays.

“What was the request for Psychiatric?” I asked.

“Give me a minute and I will get to that.” Dr. Gibson walked over to the desk and grabbed a large folder from one of the piles.

“Let’s start with a physical tour of her body.” Dr. Gibson had pulled a stack of pictures out of the folder and walked up to the white board.

“First thing to note was her weight.” Dr. Gibson started while sorting out pictures “Her weight when she came in yesterday was 94 pounds. Based on her bone structure as a female her weight should have been closer to 120. However, as a male her weight would have been in the 150 to 160 range. As such, she was seriously underweight and malnourished.”

The first picture he put up on the board was that of a face, a very feminine face. Something inside of me seemed to tighten up as I looked at that picture. ‘That can’t be a guy; I would call that face pretty in its current state. That can’t be right.’

“As you can see, this is not the face of our normal transsexual. This face is very feminine. Notice the rounded structure, high cheek bones, soft chin and smallish nose. I checked very closely for any signs of surgical alterations and can find none. So I would have to say that other than the softer skin and lack of facial hair, this is what your victim as always looked like.”

The next picture was a frontal view of the upper torso. “The breasts do have implant augmentation, but about 50% of the overall tissue is hormonal growth. This is a very large percentage compared to what we have seen historically. Best that I can tell from various scans and test are the implants are of very high quality, which means they cost money, and were implanted by someone that knew what they were doing. Not a backroom bargain sale.”

Dr. Gibson then put two pictures of the victim’s back on the board.

“My God” Tina muttered with some shock in her voice.

“Yes Agent Warline, this poor girl’s back looks like a war zone. With just an initial review I have counted over 40 individual scar patterns,” Dr. Gibson explained as he pulled a laser pointer out of his pocket. “I am not an expert in this area, but these straight scars that angle across the back appear to be from a whip of some sort. These smaller individual spots appear to be a mix of puncture wounds and burns. I have no idea what caused them.”

Putting up pictures of the victim’s buttocks and frontal groin area Dr. Gibson continued “There is quite a bit of scarring on the buttocks besides the obvious branding that occurred. Many appear to be similar in pattern to what was seen on the back. The branding appears to be of a very vicious nature. Though the brand is only about 4” long and 1  ½ inches high, the burn was quite deep. You can see that from the concave formation of the buttock skin.”

Doctor Gibson turned his attention to the picture for the groin, “As you may or may not already know, our girl was castrated. The castration was not surgical in nature, but a rather brutal removal of the testes. The scarring in this area is quite extensive and gives the indication of a burn. I don’t even want to imagine how this was done but the process of doing so appears to have created significant nerve damage that is part of the resulting atrophy to the penis.”

I found myself becoming over whelmed with the pictures. How could someone inflict that much damage on another person? How could someone survive such treatment? That our victim was alive at all was beginning to look more like a miracle.

Dr. Gibson continued to put pictures up on the board. “I also did a fairly quick colonoscopy last night on a suspicion, and found that our girl suffered significant damage in that area. There was quite a bit of scarring and what appeared to be some burn marks as well. I can only guess at the cause.

“I found the legs to be relatively unremarkable compared to the rest of the body. There was some minor scarring but nothing major. The feet on the other hand had some interest.” Dr. Gibson pointed to a round scar on the top of each foot “Notice these scars; they are mirrored on the bottom of the foot giving the indication that the victim’s feet were completely pierced by something.”

“I have an unproven theory on that,” putting up pictures of the hands, “as both hands show a similar scar pattern in the palm and back. I will admit the first thing that came to my mind when I saw this was crucifixion. ”

Tina and I looked at each other in total disbelief.

Going back to the pictures of the feet, “The other thing of interest on the feet is both Achilles tendons have been surgically shortened”

“Shortened, why?” I asked

“She has to wear high heels” Tina responded in almost a whisper

“Correct, Agent Warline, if I was to guess based on comparative lengths, I would say our girl has to wear 3” to 4” heels just to be able to stand.”

Dr. Gibson walked across his office to the x-ray viewer and turned it on. Snapping a series of x-rays on the screen, “I didn’t see anything else interesting in the feet or the right hand. Whatever made the punctures did not appear to hit anything major. However, on the left hand there is a significant amount of calcium build up, indicating that the bones were hit and nerve damage occurred. If I were to guess, she is unable to close her left hand completely. “

Dr. Gibson started taking down some of the x-rays. “Are we done?” Tina asked.

“Unfortunately, no,” Gibson responded and snapped up 2 more x-rays. “The final things I want to show you pictures of are her shoulders. Both shoulders show signs of repeated rotator cup injuries. We see this kind of injury a lot in gymnasts who work on the rings or parallel bar. However, since I am pretty sure our girl was not a gymnast, I would guess that she spent a lot of time hanging by her hands. I think you get the picture.”

Dr. Gibson walked back over to his desk and sat down. I stood looking back and forth between the pictures and the x-rays. All of this was just not within the reach of my comprehension. This was unreal. “Which of these got our victim dumped in the desert?”

“Actually, none of them.” Gibson grabbed another folder off of his desk and kicked back in his chair. “The final straw that had her left for dead was a massive blood clot in her right leg. The clot was pretty bad and her leg had to be in pain for some time. However, it appears some of the clot broke loose and traveled to her heart, causing a myocardial infarction, a heart attack. It was mild, by some standards, but still, a heart attack.

“We operated on her leg yesterday when she arrived and the clot has been removed and the artery has been repaired. Now we just have to wait to see what other issues we encounter. I need to wait for the rest of the blood work to come in, but I am pretty sure the clot was caused by excessive estrogen in her system.”

“Estrogen?” I asked.

“Yes, female hormones. The amount of estrogen in her system was about 10 times what a doctor would prescribe, and this was pharmaceutical grade stuff, not that cheap shit they get out Mexico or overseas. Someone with access to American pharmacies had to be giving it to her. I would guess she has been getting it for some time, so I would not be surprised to find she has liver problems by now as well.

“The other thing we found in her system was a high level of opioid drugs, most likely heroin, but I need the blood work to come back to be sure.” Gibson tossed the folder back on his desk. “Like I said earlier, someone did not like this girl very much”.

“This is just unbelievable,” Tina exclaimed. “How could one person suffer so much?”

“That is why I asked for psychiatric to be available. This girl, who ever she is, has experienced a significant amount of physical trauma. I think we will find she has been on heroin for a long time, probably as a control drug. So we are going to have a significant amount of emotional trauma added to the drug withdrawal, and she will need a lot of help both physically and mentally. If she ever wakes up, this is going to be a tough case.”.

“What if it was self-induced?” I asked.

Tina gave me a strange look but did not say anything.

Dr. Gibson sat in thought for a few minutes. Finally, “About 80% of the injuries sustained could not possibly be self-induced,” he stated while still in thought. “However, I guess we can’t rule out ‘willing participant’ but I don’t think so.”

“Why not? Why not something like those off the wall religious cults?”

Dr. Gibson leaned forward on his desk. “Like I said, I can’t rule it out, but for some reason it just does not feel right. I think our Desert Princess was a victim.”

“Desert Princess?” I ask surprised

“According to the newspaper, that is what she is being called.”

Dr. Gibson handed a newspaper to Tina and I walked up behind her, reading over her shoulder. There on the front page was a picture of our friend Skeeter with a big smile, sitting on his 4-wheeler. The caption on the pictures is ‘Local Heroes find Desert Princess”. ‘Great,’ I think. ‘Now she is everyone’s ”Princess”. What if she is part of all this?’

“Okay,” I replied as I walked over towards the pictures, “Is there a chance we can get copies of these?”

“I figured you would want them so I had an extra set made up.” Gibson handed a large envelope to Tina.

“Well, Dr. Gibson, we thank you for your time, and we are sure you will let us know if anything develops,” Tina stated as she rose from the chair with our copies of the pictures and x-rays.

“Of course, but right now I am going to get some sleep myself. Been up all night, and I don’t think she will wake in the next couple of hours.”

Tina and I left the doctor’s office and walked back toward the elevators. Just before reaching the elevators we passed the family waiting room which was empty. There was a large coffee urn on a table with cups and condiments. Tina leaned into me and herded me into the empty family waiting area.

“Let’s have a cup of coffee and chew on this one for a minute,” she stated.

Pouring a couple cups of coffee and choosing a couple of chairs towards the back of the room we sat.

“So you think this could be self-induced?” Tina asked me.

“I don’t know that if it is or isn’t. Just exploring the possibilities”

“Okay, that’s fair. But I don’t think so. Call it ‘gut feel’ if you want.” Tina took a sip of her coffee.

“Okay, maybe, maybe not”

Tina set her coffee down. “Let’s assume for a minute that this is not self-induced.”

“Fine,” I replied, “let’s assume that.”

“If we assume that someone did this to her and then either thought she was dead or soon to be dead, they dumped her in the desert to get rid of the body.”

“I follow, but why dump the body? Why not just bury it?”

“The prisons are full of serial killers who buried their victims and then the remains were found and used as evidence against them. In this case we assume, like past cases, if the body were not found for 3 or 4 weeks, the elements would take care of the evidence.”

“Okay, I’m not sure I follow you, Tina. Where are you going with this?”

“What do you think those same people would do if they read in this morning’s paper that their latest dump victim was still alive and in the hospital?”

“Ahhh, I see, they may well consider coming back to finish the job.”

“Kind of what I was thinking,” Tina said picking up her coffee again.

“So, are you thinking of using the victim as bait?”

“I thought of that, but don’t think that would be too good an idea. If we assume that all 6 cases that we know of are related, we are talking about an organization that can run a human trafficking operation in at least 4 countries. Any organization that big would simply hire a thug off of the street to be the shooter. We set a trap and catch the shooter, they probably can’t even tell us who hired them.”

Tina paused for a moment to sip her coffee “No, I think we stand a better chance of finding our way into this organization by hoping our ‘Desert Princess’ wakes up and gives us something to work with.”

“In that case we need to find a way to keep the vic alive,” I added.

“Or” Tina raised a finger, “convince the world she is really dead.”

I thought about that for a few minutes, sipping on my coffee. “Okay, you call Holiday,” (Mike Holiday, Special Agent in Charge, our boss up in Phoenix), “and fill him in on our thoughts and I will call Bob Mitchell and see if we can get a group of bosses together to sell this idea.”

We both spent the next hour on our cell phones back and forth between different agencies and people. Bob Mitchell called Gus Davis, the Pima County Sheriff, and arranged for 2 plain clothes deputies to stand watch over our victim. We went back and discussed the issues with Dr. Gibson and he agreed to move our victim to a more isolated room that could be watched better. Once we got the buzz started, phones seemed to be ringing all over Tucson, and our call waiting signals were driving us crazy.

That afternoon at, we were at City Hall, sitting in a very large and plush conference room with just about anyone that was on the ‘Who’s Who’ list of Tucson law enforcement and high enough in politics. All in all there were about 20 people present, and two or three more on the phone. Mike Holiday had called in from Phoenix, Gus Davis and Bob Mitchell was here along with 3 to 5 deputies and assistants each. Tucson chief of police, Stuart Roderman was present with his entourage. We even had the Mayor, Harlem Bridgler and both of his personal assistants as honored guests. I remember thinking that his personal assistants looked like they just came back from the Bunny Ranch up near Vegas.

All of the powers had jockeyed for the seats around the table in some form of unwritten pecking order, with all of the assistants relegated to the chairs along the walls, all sitting behind their respective bosses. Tina and I were seated in a corner between the assistants. Chief of Police Roderman had personally requested that Dr. Gibson join the meeting and update everyone on the condition of the victim.

I am guessing that Dr. Gibson had not gotten his nap, as he pretty much looked it. When you are a big shot ER surgeon you don’t need to worry about impressing the politicians. Gibson gave a very impressive color slide show of all of the information that he had given Tina and me earlier in the day. However, it took him quite a bit longer as he found it necessary to embellish more of his opinions on what happened to the victim. There was a continual stream of exclamations of shock, groans and other sounds coming from the audience as the various pictures and opinions were displayed.

I reached the conclusion that I had done something to upset the good Doctor earlier in the day, as near the end of his talk he spent 5 to 10 minutes refuting how none of this could be self-inflicted as I, yes he called me out by name, apparently believed. This resulted in my taking 10 minutes to explain that while I did not necessarily believe this was a self-infliction case, I was attempting to question all possibilities, since we really had no evidence one way or the other. By the time I had finished I saw about a third of the people present were thinking about my arguments with slight nods of their heads and the other two thirds were looking at me as if I came from Mars and had totally lost my mind. The latter group included our beloved Mayor, who was probably hoping that the newly crowned Desert Princess would become the poster child for the town along with another 3% of the gay/lesbian voters.

Sheriff Davis was quick to jump to the floor with the concern that the victim’s life could be in further danger, and how he had already taken the initiative to post deputies at the hospital to watch over her. The debate on how to manage the crisis went around the table for about 30 minutes, with the Mayor pointing out quite emphatically, that nothing was to happen to ‘his’ Desert Princess, or there would be hell to pay. I think every idea from putting him in a bomb shelter to flying him to moon was brought up at one point. Finally, Mike Holiday, on the phone, proposed that we listen to Tina’s idea about leaking a story to the press that our victim had died. The Mayor seemed to have the biggest problem with this idea as he claimed he had never lied to the press before. He also quickly pointed out that campaign promises don’t count, that was just part of politics, and the debate raged on.

I sat there for the better part of two hours wondering how a secret shared among 20 to 30 people was going to remain a secret very long, and which one of these high ranking officials would be the one to tell a reporter friend ‘off the record’, that he had a big secret. I was also totally amazed at the fact that not a single person in the room even raised the slightest question about the continual gender reference of ‘she’ or ‘her’. It seemed to be taken as a given fact that this was a woman victim. Was I the only one that was bothered by that?

Despite the comedy of high politics, a press release was issued by the University of Arizona Medical Center that evening that the un-named person who had been found in the desert the day before had succumbed to her injuries and passed away during the day. I really did not believe the subterfuge would last more than a week or two, but maybe would give us a little time. We did get a crime scene technician in to see our victim and collect finger prints. Maybe we could get a hit and at least find out who our John Doe really was.

That evening I was sitting home alone with a cold beer watching some noise on the TV, but my mind was still with what I had learned that day. Regardless of my opinion of transsexuals, which is pretty low for personal reasons, no one should have to put up with the kind of torture and abuse that our victim seems to have experienced. I also had a really hard time getting the picture of that face out of my mind and convincing myself that face belonged to a man.

The Princess of the Desert -- Chapter 2

By Melodie Thomas

Edited by Holly Hart

Thursday August 21, 2008

Nothing had changed over the first week as far as our victim was concern. Though the body’s vital signs were improving and it was healing due to the intravenous feeding and medications, there was no indication yet when our victim would rejoin the rest of the world. What we believed to the be the red pickup involved in the dump was found on a used car lot in Houston Texas after being sold to the dealer in an auto auction in New Mexico. The tire treads matched those found at the crime scene, but the pickup and been thoroughly detailed twice and, as a result, no other trace evidence was found. With no new leads to follow, Tina and I went back to work on some of the other things on our desk, mostly related to drug activity.

Returning from lunch I grabbed a bottle of water out of the machine at the entrance and headed to my office. My office door creates kind of a blind corner from the building entrance, so with no warning I stepped into my office.

“It’s about time you got back.” I heard a voice from the guest chair at the back of the room.

The man sitting in the chair was a 55 year old, slightly balding, salt and peppered hair gentleman that I knew too well.

“Mike, what the hell are you doing here?”

Mike Holiday, FBI Regional Director was about 6 foot, 225 and carried a little extra around the middle, which I suppose came naturally as one gracefully aged. Having Mike as my boss was one thing, but about 8 months ago Mike started being seen regularly with a lovely 52 year old socialite in Phoenix that I knew quite well as ‘Mother’.

“Your mother sent me to see if you were still alive. Seems you forget to call every once in a while.”

“Dear Mom, I am sorry, I will call more often. Now why are you really here?”

“Where’s Tina?”

Just on cue, Tina walked through the office door with just about as much surprise on her face as I had.

Mike smiled and shook his head “You know, I should move down here. Lunch hours in Tucson seem to be much better than in Phoenix.”

Tina walked to her desk “I will take the shorter lunch hours if you will take my teenage daughter.”

“Oh, no way!” Mike laughed “Okay, you win. Anyway, I decided to personally deliver the finger print results on your unknown victim.” Mike waved a folder in the air.

Okay, this was quite unusual. I was puzzled. Sitting at my desk I said, “That is wee bit unusual, Mike. What gives? Did we get a hit?”

“Oh, we got more than a hit. I know who your Jane Doe is, and that piece of knowledge comes with a very, very interesting story, and I just had to bring this one to you myself.”

“This must be good,” Tina said, “to bring you all the way down here.”

“It is, it is, and ‘that’ is really an understatement.”

Mike opened the folder “Your victim’s name is Steven Jay Atkins, born September 14, 1984 in Boulder Colorado, which is where he lived until he disappeared in July of 2005. However, his name did not make the missing person’s list until August of 2006, because prior to that he was considered a suicide victim.

“In July of 2005 Mr. Atkins was assumed to have committed suicide after his wife, his wife’s parents and his own parents caught him at a party, dressed as a woman, having sex with men. The day after this very embarrassing discovery, the police found Mr. Atkins’ jeep parked by a bridge over a deep gorge of a river with a note stating he could not live with the shame and hurt that he’d brought on his family, so he’d decided to throw himself off of the bridge.”

“So, he faked his suicide and ran off to live the life of sin he enjoyed,” I commented as I looked at Tina. Her face showed a little hurt in it.

“Oh, nothing is going to be quite that simple in this story.” Mike continued with a smile “In a seemingly unrelated case, about a year later, after some very difficult investigative work, our brothers in arms at the DEA executed a search warrant on the home of a Mr. Frank Grayson, who was thought to be the head of a major drug distribution network in the area. Not only did they catch Mr. Grayson with some dirty fingers, but they also got his #2 man, a Mr. John Lamberton, with very dirty fingers and Mr. Lamberton’s wife, a Mrs. Cathy Lamberton.”

“I don’t get it,” Tina interrupted. “Where do these tie in?”

“Have patience my little FBI agent, I will get to that. After celebrating their amazing work, our bothers in arms contacted the local police to collect as much background information on their three suspects as possible. During this background work the local police discovered that Mrs. Cathy Lamberton had been married once before, and her previous husband was none other than our Mr. Steven Atkins. The local police, thinking this was a little strange, did a little more digging and found that the place that Mr. Atkins had been having his big embarrassing moment before throwing himself off of the bridge, was at the house of Mr. Frank Grayson, and that the former Mrs. Atkins had become the new Mrs. Lamberton only one week after her crossdressing husband was declared dead.”

Mike paused for a sip of water “Any questions yet?”

“Oh, hell yeah.” I responded. “But I don’t want to interrupt a good story.”

“Your Mother said you were a smart boy. Anyway, the local police boys started getting it in their head that perhaps Mr. and Mrs. Lamberton and possibly Mr. Grayson may have played a little more of a role than they originally thought in helping our Mr. Atkins throw himself off of the bridge. Armed with a little better list of questions the local boys went back to both sets of parents and discovered that they had been informed that something was going on with Mr. Atkins, and they need to go to a certain address at a certain time to help him. The person that informed them of this was none other than the former Mrs. Atkins, who claimed she got that information from a ‘friend’. At this point the local boys were beginning to think they had a case that might take precedence over the drugs. They were starting to think that our Mr. Atkins may have had a little help throwing himself off of that bridge.

“As a new round of questioning started, Mr. Grayson, who appeared to be smarter than the other two, probably why he was the leader …” Mike glanced up at us, “a point you two might want to remember every once in a while …“ (Both Tina and I rolled our eyes slightly as we were never allowed to forget who the boss was, but not in a bad way either.) “… started negotiating with the DEA and the local boys that he had a whole lot of interesting information to share that would not only give them the drug operation but also a human trafficking network that was operating throughout the US.

“Needless to say, everyone was pretty interested in this newest piece of information and were more than willing to ‘flip’ Mr. Grayson. At the end of the negotiations Mr. Grayson agreed to plead guilty to a reduced drug charge and accept a 4 to 7 stay in our nice Federal Penitentiary in return for immunity on anything he might tell them about the human trafficking operation. As it turns out, that was the best deal he probably made in his life, and as they say, Mr. Grayson sang like a birdie.”

Mike shuffled some pages around looking for something specific.

“I don’t think we are too interested in the drug stuff so, ah, here it is. Mr. Grayson told a story about an organized network that looked for transsexuals, or guys that could be turned into shemales, had the right body type, stuff like that. Those selected were to be used for a worldwide prostitution ring that catered to a select audience with very selective tastes. According to Mr. Grayson, this was not volunteer recruiting, as the clientele tended to be mostly interested in S&M, bondage, rape and other hideous activities. He admitted that he had done some recruiting for this organization and had been paid handsomely for three prospects that he had been able to ‘recruit’.

“Mr. Grayson was asked specifically about Steven Atkins, and he gleefully told a very interesting story. Now, I think to fully understand this you need a little more background on Atkins. He was 20 years old at the time, with a wife and a 1 year old daughter. The Atkins’ had to struggle to get two nickels to rub together, as our Mr. Atkins was working nights in a convenience store while he attended Law school during the day. All of the information collected by the police seemed to indicate that Atkins’ family was very important to him, and he would do just about anything to take care of them. According to Grayson, Atkins’ wife was being overcome with the stress in their lives and started buying recreational medication from Lamberton, Grayson’s partner.

“Since money was in short supply, in the Atkins household, Mrs. Atkins negotiated another way to pay for her recreational medication. Mr. Lamberton so much enjoyed that form of payment that he would regularly visit Mrs. Atkins at night when Mr. Atkins was at work. Soon Mrs. Atkins and Mr. Lamberton decided they wanted to make their arrangement more permanent, but there was this problem, called a husband.”

“I am afraid I know where this is going.” I sighed.

“Now, don’t be a spoiler.” Mike grinned “Tina may not have seen the movie yet. Since our Mr. Atkins was not considered to be a super masculine man, Lamberton thought there may be a solution to their problem. After Lamberton, Grayson and Mrs. Atkins discussed for a while, a plan was hatched.

“Based on the stories collected by the police, Mr. Atkins was always very sensitive about his lack of masculine traits. As such, he ate a steady diet of those multiple pill and vitamin packs that promised to build muscle and create a lean, mean body. Grayson had been given some drugs by the trafficking organization that he could use to ‘recruit’ possible candidates. Mrs. Atkins started slipping various combinations of these drugs into Mr. Atkins vitamins on a daily basis. Soon, our Mr. Atkins was experiencing blackouts in which long periods of time would elapse, of which, he had no memory.

“During these blackout periods, Mr. Atkins’ loving wife, along with Mr. Lamberton, were dressing him as a woman and arranging sexually compromising scenes for him that were photographed and videotaped.

“How could that happen?” I asked, unbelieving.

“Easy” Tina responded “My husband says there are drugs out there that will make you forget which planet you are on, and anyone can reprogram you to think whatever they want you to think”

“Especially, if you don’t know you are taking them.” Mike added. “Our experts say this story so far is quite plausible, as someone that did not know they were being drugged and given the messages would actually start believing that these were their own thoughts. Anyway, back to our story.

“Grayson was sending these pictures and tapes to his contact in the trafficking organization to see if they had any interest in his newest ‘recruit’. Grayson’s contact, Anne, responded they did have an interest, so Grayson arranged to have Atkins experience another blackout and be delivered to Grayson’s house for a ‘party’, and also arranged for Atkins parents to see him there.”

“Oh, this is starting to sound pretty sick,” Tina commented.

“Grayson said Anne offered him $75,000 for Atkins, and an additional $50,000 for another transsexual named Vicky Wilson. The next day, Mr. Atkins jumped off the bridge and disappeared forever, or at least until we found him.”

“Oh God,” I sighed. “So this poor bastard never knew what hit him.”

“So it seems.” Mike continued. “Grayson gave the cops Anne’s cell phone number and they had Grayson call her and set up a meet. Something went wrong and she never showed. When they tried to have Grayson call her back the number had been disconnected. An attempted trace on the first call showed she was out of the country. Mr. Grayson was serving out his time when someone cut off his gonads and stuffed them down his throat. The coroner was not sure if he bled out before he choked to death or not. Either way, it seemed this Anne was not too happy with being sold out. Mr. Lamberton is serving 10 to 15 for narcotics distribution, and Mrs. Lamberton is currently serving 5 to 10 for the same thing.”

“What happened to the daughter?” Tina asked

“She was given to Atkin’s parents. I need to tell you two,” Mike continued, “this has become a much hotter case. Once our fingerprints hit the system I started getting calls from Colorado and Justice in D.C.. Colorado had never been able to prove the Lambertons were part of the trafficking activity. There was no evidence to back up Grayson’s story. They would very much like to talk to Atkins, and hear his story. Justice is very hot on this slavery ring that Grayson talk about. In either case I don’t think we are going to be able to keep your victim’s secret for much longer.”

Mike closed the folder and set in on my desk. “Both of you read all the details. As of today I am pulling everything else off of your plate, and our ‘Desert Princess’ is your only job. I will be assigning two junior agents to you for protection detail and other activities that you need. You are to stay close to Atkins and get everything you can get.”

Mike leaned back in his chair and paused for a moment “Before I go much further, I need to ask you a question Dan.”

“OK, shoot.”

“I have no idea what Atkins is going to be if he wakes up, a boy, a girl or somewhere in between. I need to know if you can deal with this and keep your personal issues out of it.”

I was taken aback by the question and started to get angry, but quickly understood the concern. This was important, and I couldn’t let my personal issues interfere. The bigger question was could I do it? “I can handle this Mike.” At least I hoped so.

Mike looked at me for a few minutes as if trying to read my mind. “Okay, I will take your word for it. I have run this case by our Psychiatric people and they think this is going to be a slow process. If the same methods were used on Atkins after he was taken, when he wakes up he will probably not know who or where he is. He may still believe whatever garbage has been fed to him over the past 3 years. There is also a strong chance of memory loss.

“Opinion is this Dr. Rienfelt here in Tucson is probably one of the best available, and the folks in Washington have made a special request to have her assigned to the case. We have sent a copy of the case file to her this afternoon. You will work with her, and understand there will be some doctor/patient issues, but I have been told Rienfelt is smart enough to work around them without compromising either side. Again, the Desert Princess is your responsibility. Any questions?”

Yeah, I had a ton of them but none that could really be answered here. I looked at Tina and she shook her head.

“Good,” Mike said standing up. “Then I am heading home, as I have a dinner date tonight. Please keep me in the loop.”

“Say hi to Mom for me,” I said as Mike left the room.

“That I can do.” And he was gone.

“You really think you can do this?” Tina asked.

I did not get upset with Tina. She had listened to me more than enough to have the right to question me. “I may need you to check me once in a while, but yea, I can do this.”

Sunday August 24, 2008
After Mike left on Thursday, the balance of Thursday afternoon and Friday morning turned into a political circus. None of the Tucson law enforcement community was thrilled that the FBI was stepping in and managing the case, and they would, for the most part, be out of the picture. There were a number of pretty high level phone calls between Tucson and Phoenix along with Washington and Virginia. In the end, an agreement was reached that we, Tina and I, would hold a weekly conference with the leaders of the various local agencies and keep them abreast of what we learned and what actions were planned.

The majority of the day was spent passing off cases to other people and playing phone tag with the hospital. Tina and I wanted to meet with Dr. Rienfelt, and it looked like it would have to be the next week. A little after noon two new agents from the Phoenix office arrived as part of our small protection team. Agent Dale Zimmer was a 23 year old, fresh from the academy, 6’ 190, brown haired newbie. Stacy Stanton was a 24 year old, 5’7” blond who had a couple of years support experience, but no field time. The four of us spent most of the afternoon in Tina’s and my office discussing how we were going to stay with Atkins 24/7 and other facts of the case. Dale said he would prefer to work nights, because the hospital would be at a slower pace and it would be easier for him to keep track of who was coming and going. Besides, he argued that if Atkins was to wake up it would probably be better for Stacy to be with her during the day. I was not sure I agreed with all of that, but figured we could start there and adjust as necessary.

Later that afternoon Dale headed off to his hotel to get some sleep. He would relieve Stacy at 9:00 that night. Since they had not been on the case for long they volunteered to work the weekend and then we could make other arrangements for relief over the next week. Tina and I decided to call it an early week and headed home.

Around 8:30 in the morning I was sitting on my back patio having my second cup of coffee and pondering what to do with the day. With Dale and Stacy on hospital duty there was not much for me to do. I needed to get out to the police range and complete my annual qualification with my service weapon, but was not all that sure today was the day. I had just taken a sip of my coffee with my cell phone rang. The caller ID was Tina.

“Yes my Queen.” I answered.

“Haul your ass to the Hospital,” came the response. “Our Princess woke up this morning.”

I was already moving before I realized it. “When? Any issues?”

“Don’t know the exactly when. Dale did a bed check at 3am with the night nurse and she was still out. Stacy relieved him this morning at 8:00 and when she checked on Atkins, she was awake.”

I had my phone pinched between my shoulder and my ear as I stripped my shorts and jumped into a pair of jeans. “Anything said?”

“According to Stacy, she didn’t say anything, even when addressed by the nurse. If she woke up during the night she did not move or call out, just lay there.”

“Okay, I will be there in 30 minutes.” I hung up the phone.

Fortunately I had already showered for the morning so I grabbed a polo shirt, boots, weapon and badge and headed for the door. Tina had taken our service car home for the weekend, so I went to the garage and fired up the Corvette and headed out.

By time I had reached the ICU Tina had already arrived. Entering the outer isolation room I found Tina talking with a fairly tall, very good looking blonde either in her late 30’s or early 40’s. The blonde was about 5’9” with hair just reaching her shoulders. She was very shapely, wearing blue jeans and a yellow and blue striped blouse with low heeled dress shoes. Force of habit, but I also noticed she was not wearing rings, either.

Tina saw me enter and motioned to the Blonde.

“Agent Dan McNeil, Dr. Paula Rienfelt.”

The blonde turned toward me, “Dr. Rienfelt,” I greeted, extending my hand.

“Paula, please,” Dr. Reinfelt responded, taking my hand. “May I call you Dan?”

“Of course. What is happening?” I released her hand and moved to look in the window.

“Actually,” Paula continued “nothing yet. Our Patient apparently woke up somewhere between 3:00am and 8:00am this morning. “

As Paula was talking I was looking at the center of all this attention. Sitting in a mostly upright position was the face I had seen a picture of almost 2 weeks ago. What I saw looked so feminine that I had a hard time picturing the victim as anything but a girl. The Atkins had long wave of reddish brown hair pulled over the left shoulder which reached just below the bust line. Let me tell you it was an impressive bust line as well. The face was definitely feminine, with slightly enlarged lips. I could not see the Atkins’s eyes, that appeared to be focusing on his hands. Atkins body was completely unmoving.

“According to Stacy,” Tina picked up, “she hasn’t said a word since we found her awake. The nurse raised her bed slightly and offered her some water, but received no response. They have tried speaking to her and asking her name, but she just sits in that position like neither of them were there.”

“Okay.” I could not take my eyes off of him just sitting there. “So what is the battle plan?”

“As Tina and I were discussing, I would like to do all the questioning this morning,” Paula explained.

That got my attention and I turned to face them. “I am not sure that will work.”

“Dan,” Tina cut in, “I think the Paula makes a lot of sense here. We don’t know what her mental state will be, and we need to be careful we don’t push too far until we understand that. You and I are not trained to deal with these types of situations, and Paula is.”

“We don’t know a lot more than we do now,” Paula picked up right behind Tina. “We don’t know if she identifies and as ‘she’ or a ‘he’. We don’t know how much mental damage has been done. We don’t know if we are going to fight any trust issues or residual programming. I have read your files, I have spoken to your experts and we are all in agreement that we need to make these first steps very slow to avoid further damage.”

As I listen to them I remember Mike telling us that this could be a slow process, and the FBI experts agreed there was risk in pushing too fast. Not being an expert here, and with people afraid I will have problems with this case; I figured the best thing for me to do would be to take a back seat and observe. I could step in later if necessary.

“Alright, I think I understand. What do you want to do?”

“All three of us will go in there, and I would like you and Tina to stay against the far wall. If possible, sit down. I don’t want any kind of threatening atmosphere to develop. I will go sit on the bed and try to talk to her. I already have a set of questions that I would like to try, and if possible get a clearer picture on how much she remembers, how much she knows and what kind of damage we are dealing with.”

“Has Gibson been in this morning?” I asked.

“Yes.” Paula answered “He prescribed a course of Methadone, as she is already showing signs of withdrawals.”

Looking first at Paula and then Tina, I could not think of anything to add. “Okay, let’s do it.”

I opened the door to the inner room and held it for Tina and Paula. Tina and I walked over to a couple of chairs, while Dr. Rienfelt went straight to the bed. Stacy was sitting in a chair next to the bed. I watch Atkins through this entire maneuver, and never saw an eye movement or body movement that what would indicate he even knew we were there. Paula walked up to the right hand side of the bed, smoothed the blanket on the edge and sat down of the edge of the bed.

“Hi.” Paula started. “My name is Paula. Can I ask your name?”

Atkins just sat there looking down at his hands, making no movements or sounds.

Paula reached her hand out and laid on Atkins’s hands, very gently “Can you hear me? Can I have your name?”

The room was completely silent as everyone waited. Then I heard a soft, feminine voice.

“Where am I?”

That voice was a surprise. I don’t think I was expecting the bass singer from the ‘Statler Brothers,’ but I wasn’t expecting that, either. Atkins could hear us, understand us and speak. He was also shaking very badly. After seeing his hand move I studied the rest of his body and could easily see the shoulders shaking as well.

“You are at the University of Arizona Medical Center in Tucson, Arizona,” Paula answered.

“How did I get here?”

“You were found in the desert and brought here for medical care,” Paula continued. “Do you know who you are?”

Atkins sat quietly for a few moments “I’m called Stephanie.”

“Hi Stephanie, it is good to meet you,” Paula greeted with a light pat on her hands.

“Are you going to send me back to Mistress Anne?”

“No, Honey, you will be staying here where you are safe,” Paula answered.

Atkins lifted his head and looked at the rest of us. I saw a pair of blue-green eyes that would look pretty if they were not so red.

“Who are they?” Atkins asked

“They are with the FBI. The lady sitting closest to you is Stacy, and over there,” pointing at us, “Is Dan and Tina. They are here to make sure you are safe.”

“Hi, Stephanie” Stacy said, leaning forward in her chair.

“Stephanie,” Paula started “Do you know a Steve Atkins?”

Atkins lowered his head looking back at his hands and slowly shook his head.

“What is the last thing you do remember?” Stacy asked, and earned a not so nice, glance from Paula.

“Miguel came to get me from the room,” Atkins answered. “He said I had work to do this morning, but I couldn’t walk, my leg hurt too much. Miguel pulled me out of my bed and pushed me out the door. I felt dizzy and if fell. I don’t remember anything after that.”

“You had a heart attack,” Stacy explained, “The doctors have fixed your leg and you will be okay”

Atkins lifted his head and looked right at Stacy “Is it really over?”

Stacy stood up and walked over to the bed and laid a hand on Atkins shoulder. “Yes, Stephanie, it is over. You are with us now, and you are safe.”

Atkins laid his head back on the pillows looking at the ceiling “Oh God, oh God.”

I could see tears rolling down his cheeks as he lay there. I was having a real hard time fathoming what he had gone through. From the information that we had, none of this was of his own free will. Something inside of me was hurting for him. I have always had sympathy for the victims, but something was different here, and so was what I was feeling.

Both Stacy and Paula tried asking more simple questions over the next half hour without much success. Atkins’s memory was pretty much limited to his last 3 days in captivity. Stacy stayed with Atkins while Paula, Tina and I had a conference with Doctor Gibson.

Monday, September 1, 2008
Not much has changed in our investigation of the past week since Atkins woke up. The doctors have been playing a tap dance with Atkins’ medication while trying to treat the injuries but also work through the heroin withdrawal. Atkins has good days and bad days but there was some level of relationship growing between Atkins and Stacy that seems to be helping. Having Stacy there gave Atkins someone to lean on during the bad days, and to celebrate with during the good days. The hospital decided that we could move Atkins out of ICU, but wanted him to stay in the hospital for now. There were no private rooms available, so the FBI negotiated one of the extended stay convalescent rooms the hospital maintains.

We did have a problem with Dale Zimmer on the night shift. Atkins was having a bad day and woke during the night to find another man in his room. Atkins threw a fit, saying that he did not want a man around him and we had to pull Zimmer off of the detail. With Atkins’ move to the extended stay room, Stacy volunteered to stay with him until other arrangements could be made. I didn’t think this was a good idea having a female agent stay in a man’s room. Tina, Paula and Stacy keep pointing out to me that Atkins was not a man, okay, whatever. That was still not a theory I was subscribing to but I was overruled, so Stacy was staying with Atkins.

One good thing that has come out of Stacy’s and Atkins’ building relationship is some better pictures. Stacy’s relationship with Atkins seems to be centered on hairstyles and makeup. Of course, my opinion of this was overruled, as Paula argued that anything we could do to improve the trust that we had with Atkins would pay longer term benefits. Stacy brought some makeup and stuff to Atkins’ room this past week and the two of them spent a day making themselves ‘look beautiful’. Then Stacy took pictures of Atkins with brushed hair and full makeup. The new pictures increased my confusion even more. There was no way the subject of these pictures was male. I just could not get my mind around that. Without anyone knowing it, I emailed a couple of the pictures to my personal account.

Today, Tina and I were heading to the hospital for a conference with Gibson and Reinfelt. We had just left the weekly update meeting with the Mayor and the rest of the law enforcement heads, but wanted to talk to the doctors about any way to speed up Atkins’ memory recovery. We went directly to Paula’s office and Dr. Gibson was already there.

“Tina, Dan, come on in.” Paula greeted us. “How did the meeting go?”

“Same political crap.” Tina responded.

“Yeah,” I added, “it is hard to convince our beloved Mayor that he can’t have a photo op with a dead person.”

Both Gibson and Reinfelt smiled while I took a chair. Tina stopped at the empty chair next to me, picked it up and moved it across the room before setting it down and sitting.

“Is there a problem here?” Paula asked with a puzzled look.

“We had a little disagreement on the way here,” I said, trying to wave off the discussion.

“Yeah,” Tina exclaimed “My tenderhearted partner there wants to pump Stephanie full of ‘truth serum’ drugs or something to get to her memories. I can’t believe you Dan.”

I raised my hands in defense. “I was just throwing out some ideas is all.”

Tina slapped her notebook into her lap. “She has suffered enough from drugs. That is the last thing we should do.”

“Take it easy, you two.” Paula interjected. “Let’s talk about our options here.”

Everyone was quite for a moment then Tina addressed Gibson “Doctor Gibson, do you mind if I ask for an update on Stephanie’s medical condition?”

“Sure,” Gibson responded while shuffling some papers in his lap. “First, let’s talk about the heroin addiction. We appear to be past the worst of it and she seems to be having an easier time each day. There will be some latency effects. but I think the worst is behind us. We are already starting to lower the rest of her medication so we don’t create any new problems to replace the old.

“Her leg seems to be healing quite well and she has increased mobility on it each day. We plan to start increasing the physical therapy sessions this week.”

It was true, Atkins had been up and walking. Where they found a pair of 3” heeled slippers I will never know, but they did.

“All in all,” Gibson continued “I think she is doing remarkably well.”

“So, what can we do to improve his memory?” I asked.

Gibson looked at me for a moment “Agent McNeil, I can’t help but notice that you continue to refer to Stephanie as a ‘he’, while everyone else refers to her as a ‘she’. Do you have an issue with that?”

“Everyone has their own opinion, Doctor,” I responded.

“Okay,” Paula interrupted, “let’s move on and talk about what our options are that don’t involve drugs.”

Tina gave me a smug look. I stuck my tongue out at her, which earned me a small smile and a shake of her head.

The four of us debated the options for about an hour. Just letting things go their natural course was not an approach I agreed with. If our theories were correct, there were still victims out there that we needed to think about, along with Atkins. Some level of risk needed to be taken. The meeting closed with an agreement, though with some hesitation, that Paula would try hypnosis on Atkins to see if any memories could be unlocked. Everyone agreed that we would wait until Thursday to give Atkins a little more recovery time and maximize his strength.

Thursday, September 4, 2008
Tina and I were sitting in Dr. Paula Rienfelt’s office discussing the coming hypnosis session. Paula informed us that we could not be present during the session as we would cause a distraction. Tina, Stacy and I would have to wait across the hall in the waiting room, and for patient confidentiality reasons; we couldn’t have a microphone in the room, either.

We had been waiting about a half of an hour when there was a soft knock at the door and Stacy led Atkins into the room. Atkins was still wearing a hospital gown, but it was covered in a terry cloth bath robe. Atkins was wearing makeup and his hair was brushed out nicely. That would be one good looking woman if I didn’t know it wasn’t a man.

Stacy led Atkins to a chair and then sat beside him.

“Stephanie,” Paula started “Today we would like to try a little hypnosis to see if we can help you with your memories. Is that alright with you?”

We had discussed this. and Paula was firm that we need to get Atkins’ cooperation for this to be successful. I really didn’t care if we had his cooperation or not, I needed information.

Atkins looked at Stacy, who nodded to her. “I guess, Paula, if you think it would help.”

Paula smiled “We think it will help, and we would like to try it now.”

Atkins nodded his head. Tina, Stacy and I started to get up to leave the room. Atkins reached out for Stacy’s arm.

“Can’t Stacy stay?” Atkins asked.

“Stephanie,” Stacy answered, “You need to be alone with Paula. I will be right across the hall with Tina and Dan.”

Atkins considered for a moment and let go of Stacy’s arm. The three of us left the room, closing the door behind us. I was surprised to find a gurney and three hospital orderlies standing in the hall. When questioned, they said that Dr. Rienfelt had requested they be present just in case they were needed. I was puzzled by that as I thought this would be a pretty mellow session. I was wrong.

While we were waiting, Stacy was explaining to us what she had learned about Atkins and what her opinions were. According to her, Atkins was really struggling with the memory loss, and really wanted to know who he was. Atkins and Stacy had spent hours talking about it and trying to jog memories to no avail. The only thing that we really got out of him over the past couple of weeks was he, as well as the other ‘girls’ were used to make various kinds of videos. That piece of information was forwarded to our cybercrime division to see if there could find anything on the web. In my mind, I was picturing a bunch of guys sitting is a dark room watching porn videos all day, and getting paid for it.

We had been waiting for a little less than an hour when the quiet of the hospital wing was shattered with the blood curling scream of a woman. All three of us jumped to our feet. Tina and I drew our service weapons, but we were not sure where the scream came from. At that instant Dr. Rienfelt opened her office door and frantically signaled to the orderlies that were waiting outside. The orderlies entered the office just seconds before Tina and I got there. Once we entered, we saw Atkins curled up in a fetal position on the floor sobbing uncontrollably. One of the orderlies, along with Paula, was trying to console Atkins, but not appearing to have any effect. Stacy rushed past us, pushed the orderly out of the way and pulled Atkins into her arms. Atkins appeared to recognize Stacy and instantly wrapped his arms around her. Stacy told the orderlies to bring the gurney in. One of the orderlies came back with a hypodermic that he said was a sedative, ordered by Gibson in advance.

The sedative was administered; Atkins was loaded on the gurney and was taken back to her room, accompanied by Stacy. Tina and I stayed to talk to Paula.

“What the hell was that?” I demanded, maybe too forcefully.

Paula dropped exhaustedly into her chair. “I really don’t know.”

“What can you tell us?” Tina asked

“Well,” Paula started, “I got her under, and thought I would start off by taking her back to before all of this started. I asked her what her name was and she told me Steven Jay Atkins. We proceeded forward with her telling me about their daughter being born and going to school. When we got up to the timeframe where things would have started happening, she started to get very anxious. We started talking about the blackouts that she’d had and that is where things went to hell and you saw the after affects. I will have to take some time to think through this.”

Paula was pretty shaken, and was not interested in talking to us anymore. She said she needed to get home and have some quiet time. Tina and I stopped by Atkins room on the way out and Stacy met us in the hallway.

“She is sleeping right now,” Stacy said. “She really didn’t say anything to me on the way or after we got here. She did keep mumbling ‘this can’t be real, this can’t be real’, but that is all I got.”

We discussed it for a while longer and realized nothing else was going to happen today. Tina and I headed back to the office and called Mike Holiday and gave him an update on what had happened. Mike kind of jumped my case for pushing things too fast. I got defensive with him and told him that even if the hypnosis thing was my idea, there were three other people that could have vetoed it and didn’t. I lay awake that night wondering if it was all my fault.

The Princess of the Desert

By Melodie Thomas

Edited by Holly Hart

Chapter 3

Friday September 5, 2008
I hurried from the elevator on the 8th floor of the hospital toward the extended stay wing. It was 9:20 in the morning. About 25 minutes earlier I’d received a phone call from Stacy telling me I needed to get there as quickly as possible. She did not sound panicked, but she was stern. After the issues the day before all I could think was the worst, as I broke nearly every traffic law there was enroute. I saw Dr. Rienfelt and Dr. Gibson coming from the opposite direction as I approached Atkins’s room. Tina had taken the day off for a school function with her daughter, so I was running solo.

The door to Atkins’s room was open as I approached, so I slowed my pace and entered the room with a slight knock on the door frame. Atkins was sitting in the oversized chair by the window with his legs tucked up under his right side, a very feminine posture. He was wearing a white bathrobe and his hair was hanging down his back. I could tell it had not been brushed this morning, nor was he wearing makeup, a stark contrast from the last time I’d seen him. His hands were folded loosely on his lap. I could see Stacy sitting in one of the other chairs and by all appearances they were just waiting. The bath robe was pulled up tight around his shoulders and draped over his knees, very little skin was showing.

Atkins looked up as I entered. “Good morning. Agent McNeil, please come in.”

His voice was level and pleasant but there was basically no expression on his face. “Good Morning, what is going on?”

“In a moment please, let’s wait for the doctors.” was all he gave me in response.

I looked at Stacy for some explanation. All I got was a sort of helpless shrug. At that point both Dr. Rienfelt and Dr. Gibson entered the room behind me.

“Good Morning. Doctors,” Atkins greeted them. “Could I ask you to close the door and have a seat?”

There was something very different this morning with Atkins, both in body language and in tone of voice. I was not sure what that was, but it put my nerves on edge. Something was going to happen here, but I had no idea what.

“Stephanie, how are you feeling today?” Paula asked as she sat down.

“Not exceptionally well, Paula.” Atkins responded in the same level tone.

“Would you like to discuss it?” Paula coaxed

“Not really. I actually have a few questions that I would like to ask the three of you,” indicating both doctors and myself, “and I would appreciate some direct honest answers.”

Looking straight at me, Atkins asked “I use to be a guy named Steven Jay Atkins, correct?”

I hesitated for a moment, not sure if the truth was the right direction and decided it was. Time to see where this would go. “Yes.”

“Please, Agent McNeil, tell me everything you know about how I went from being Steven to what I am today.”

“I would prefer to know everything you remember.” I responded

“Yes, Agent McNeil, I am sure you would, and I will be more than happy to tell you once my questions are answered. I would like you to fill in some blanks for me to see if it triggers more memories. Memories, which I seem to have a lot of right now. “

“Stephanie,” Paula cut in, “I am not sure that is such a good idea right now.”

“Paula, I understand that I am fragile, sick and hurt, both physically and emotionally but I am going to push forward with this and be insistent. We can save a lot of time and trouble for all of us if we do not get lost in the debate of what you should or should not tell me. I think I deserve to know all of it.”

This was definitely a different person sitting in front of me today than I had been seeing for the past 2 weeks. His mind seemed much more focused and sharp, and his intensity was obvious. I also noticed that he maintained a very level voice and exhibited no obvious body tension. At least for the moment, he was in control of himself. I could tell that even Paula was taken aback by the intensity in front of us.

“Alright, based on the information that we were able to obtain from the Police in Boulder and DEA files, we know the following.”

I proceeded to give him a high level run down of what we thought we knew about Frank Grayson, John Lamberton, the former Cathy Atkins, now Cathy Lamberton, the drugs, the parties and the human trafficking. As I was talking about the former Cathy Atkins, and the feminization process that Steve had gone through, I saw tears forming in Atkins’s eyes.

Stacy got up and fetched a box of tissues for him and returned to her seat. I brought my story to an end with the prison sentences for all three primary parties. When I finished Atkins sat silently for a few moments.

Finally Atkins spoke “Agent McNeil, do the police and the FBI believe that my ex-wife had something to do with what happened to me?”

“I have no more information than that. I know the Colorado prosecutor’s office believes she did, but they could not find evidence to support it. The fact that you were tied in with the same people that she was, seemed to be much more than a coincidence. Do you remember any more than that?”

“Yes, I have a few things to add, which I will in a moment.”

“I would really like to know them now if I could,” I responded trying to take control of the conversation.

“I am sorry, Agent McNeil; you will have to wait a few more minutes. I hope you do understand.”

I was kind of stunned by the response, but held my tongue. The thought also crossed my mind to remember, ‘Steven Atkins was in his second year of law school. Right now, he is acting like a lawyer.’

“What happened to my daughter?”

“She is with your parents.” I responded.

Atkins nodded her head slightly, “Can I see her?”

“We would prefer that you didn’t have contact with them at this time,” I told him.

“Could you please expound on that answer for me? I would like to have a reason if I could.”

I was actually starting to get impressed with his control, grace and poise through this discussion. The whole time he sat calmly, and exhibited an almost diplomatic aurora about him. I explained to him the fact that we had published in the papers that he had died when we found him, and the fear that we had that the people that dumped him may attempt to come finish the job. I also explained that it would not be good for anyone to know who his family was, as that could be used against him as well. Atkins sat and listened to my explanation without interruption.

When I finished he sat silently for a few minutes appearing to ponder what I had told him. “I think that is an acceptable explanation Agent McNeil, thank you.” Turning his attention to Dr. Gibson, “Dr. Gibson, I would like to thank you for all that you have done for me, and for taking the time to see me this morning. I know you are a busy man so I will get to the point.”

Dr. Gibson nodded his acceptance of the statement.

“Dr. Gibson, as straight forward as I know how to put it, can you turn me back into what I was?”

“Do you mean” Gibson asked “turn you back into a man?”

“Yes, Dr. Gibson, that is what I want to know.”

Dr. Gibson pondered the question for a few minutes.

“I think the short answer to that question is ‘no’. We can make a number of changes in your appearance and reduce many of the female characteristics, but we can never eliminate all of them. Would you like the details?”

“Yes, please, doctor.”

“Very well, starting with the obvious. Your male genitals were either removed or badly damaged. Usually a prosthetic can be used for a testes but whatever the method use to remove yours….”

Atkins interrupted “They were clamped in a device that basically crushed my balls and then pulled them away from my body, stretching the skin until it was almost ready to tear. At that point they were cut off, using a red hot wire to burn through the skin.”

Paula was looking very white, and her mouth hung open in shock. I suddenly had sympathy pains between my legs and I knew I was going white as well.

“Hmmm” Dr. Gibson responded “That would agree well with my findings, but the results are, there is not enough skin remaining to recreate the scrotum. We would have to pull skin graphs from other parts of your body and the result would not look normal. The same is true for your penis, there is not enough material left to work on a prosthetic. We could build something close, but close is all we could get.

“As for your breasts, we could remove the implants but that would only reduce you from your current ‘D’ cup to probably a small ‘C’ cup. The balance of the material is hormonal growth. We could remove the rest of that through breast reduction surgery, but we could never build you a male chest.

“Probably the most challenging part will be your feet. A section of each Achilles tendon was removed thus preventing you from walking flat footed. As you are well aware, you are required to wear elevated heels to walk.”

Atkins nodded his understanding.

“There is no other part of your body that we can take material from to create a splice that would allow the tendons to be extended with equal elasticity. As such, we would be required to use some synthetic material as a replacement. To reduce a long and technical story, though today you are required to wear elevated heels to walk, with them you walk normally. However, attempting to fix your Achilles tendons runs the strong risk of affecting your ability to walk normally even if we get the length correct.

“Chemically, we can start you on testosterone treatments that will bring back some of the male characteristics such as hair growth, rougher skin, etc. but there are other characteristics in your body that we will not be able to change. What I am going to add here is a medical evaluation, and not a personal observation. I would like to make sure you understand that.”

“Please proceed Doctor; I would like to understand everything.”

“Very well, your body exhibits many secondary female characteristics that were not altered via surgery or hormones. Examples are your face, voice, and some bone structures in your hips and your shoulders. Having no previous knowledge, I am guessing at this part, but I believe you showed many female characteristics as a male and while growing up. All men develop both male and female hormones naturally in their bodies. The amount of female hormones is different between different men but it exists in all. I am suspecting that as a child and young adult your body was producing and abnormally high level of female hormones, resulting in the development of many of the secondary traits that I just discussed. Those are things that we cannot change.”

“Let me make sure I understand Doctor,” Atkins stepped in “though I am a freak now, you are telling me that I would be more of a freak if you tried to change me back.”

Dr. Gibson pondered his answer for a moment “Of course the term ‘freak’ is not a term that I would use. However, I would say that the way you are today would allow you a far more seamless integration into society than you would have if we tried to change you back. Only your doctor or very close friends would know you were anything but a woman. I can’t say that would be true if we attempted to go back. I would also like to say we have a way to complete your transition into being a woman that would eliminate the last obvious difference.”

Atkins actually smiled at that last statement “Thank you, Doctor but I think I will hold off any decision to have anything else cut off for right now. I do want to thank you for your time and efforts. Like I said, I know you are a busy man, and, at this time, I have no more questions for you, so unless you have some for me, you do not need to stay here, though you are welcome to if you want.”

“Miss Atkins, I think I understand what you are looking for and I wish you the best in your search. I do have rounds that I am late for, but feel free to call on me anytime, and I will assist you where I can.” Dr. Gibson rose from his chair.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

Doctor Gibson left the room and Atkins sat there pondering his hands for a few moments while waiting for the door to be closed again.

Atkins looked up from his hands “Paula, I have a lot of questions for you but most of them we will get to in time. Right now, I guess, there is one big question that I would like to discuss with you. That question is kind of hard for me to frame, so it may take a couple of tries. So straight out, is it possible through hypnosis, brainwashing, chemical, anything, to make a man believe he is a woman even if that that man had never had those thoughts in his life?”

“Wow!” Paula smiled, “Let’s start with an easy one, shall we?”

Atkins smile again for the second time this morning. He does have a pretty smile. “Sorry, I’m just not sure how to state it.”

“I guess the base answer would have to be ‘no’ but then I would follow it with an ‘I don’t know’. For hypnosis and chemical, I would hold with the no answer. Hypnosis is really used to focus the mind of the subject on a given task or set of tasks. We have known for years that you can’t make someone do something under hypnosis that they would not do anyway. I can hypnotize a man and have him act like a woman for a short period of time, but as soon as the hypnosis ends so would the acting. I can’t hypnotize a man and tell him he is a woman and have him live the rest of his live as a woman. Doesn’t work that way.

“Pretty much the same is true for chemicals. I can use chemicals to alter the way a person thinks or to make them more open to suggestion however, as soon as the chemicals wear off, so do the suggestions. The one caveat to that is if the suggestion was something the person wanted anyway, then we are just lowering their inhabitations to that act, and there is a strong likelihood that will stick. Kind of like using hypnosis to help people stop smoking. Keeping someone under a constant barrage of chemicals can extend the effects, but they will die off as soon as the chemical process was stopped.

“Brainwashing is a whole different subject. Brainwashing usually results in permanent or semi-permanent changes in a person’s behavior or thought processes, but those changes occur slowly and over a long period of time. Brainwashing usually consists of a combination of chemicals along with physical or emotional control. The controller would allow pleasurable experiences to occur if the subject shows the correct behavior, and not so pleasurable experiences if the wrong behavior occurs. Over time the victim will start mimicking the correct behavioral patterns to avoid the not so pleasurable experiences.

“Now, to trying to focus in on what I think you are asking me. During your period of captivity the concept of brainwashing is viable. They had you in a controllable position and could reward or punish for various behavior. Over that period of time they could easily have changed the way you thought and acted through those controls. However, I have never heard of a case where that kind of control was mixed with overall memory loss. Usually, the victim has memories of the experience and it is those memories that continue to drive the desired behavior.

“Prior to your captivity, it is possible for someone to have controlled your actions through chemical and suggestive methods, but those controls would have been limited. You may have gone along with things out of fear, but you would have never accepted them as correct. Adding in a chemical addiction, hypnotic messages and fear, they could have controlled your actions and made you do things you would not have done, but they could never have made you enjoy them.

“Now,” Paula continued “I may be stretching but I am going to tell you what I think you are trying to figure out. If I am wrong please forgive me. I think the majority of the feminine behaviors that you are exhibiting now come natural to you. I don’t think they are a result of someone ‘programming’ you. I also think that whatever enjoyment you are getting from that behavior also is natural to you. The people that took you used you for far more sinister reasons than giving you the behaviors and mannerisms of a woman. That part came natural to you, which just made their job easier.”

Atkins sat studying his hands while playing with his fingers for a few moments, obviously thinking about everything he just heard. I decided that I needed more time with Paula to understand some of the things she just said. I had been working on the assumption all along that want I was seeing in Atkins was the result of someone’s work. Now, I was getting the impression some of it was natural, and that was not making sense to me. Also, what Dr. Gibson said was still bothering me. How someone could be born part boy and part girl? I just could not get my mind wrapped around that.

Atkins finally looked up “Thank you Paula. You hit fairly close to home, and we will be discussing that topic more, I promise. When I was growing up I was in a constant battle to prove that I was a boy or a man once I got to high school. I was always smaller and weaker than my friends, and trying to keep up with them was a struggle. Friends of my parents always referred to me as their ‘pretty boy’, not handsome but pretty. Now mind you, I never once thought I was a girl in a boy’s body. I was a boy, and I was going to prove that I could be every bit as good as everyone else.

“When I got into high school I became a gym rat. I was pumping iron, running, playing every sport I could just to prove I was as much of a man as the rest of them. I really got into those protein vitamin kits. You know, the ones that come with about a dozen different pills that you need to take every day for bigger muscles and to ‘bulk up’. I continued that activity even after I got out of high school and married Cathy. I would set up a week’s supply in little plastic cups every Sunday and would down one for breakfast every day. So, if Cathy was slipping something else in there Agent McNeil, I would have never noticed.

“Agent McNeil, as I promised you a bit ago, let me fill in some things that I remember. I can tell you that John Lamberton was definitely involved in what happened to me. He was at all the parties, used me for errands for Frank, and even gave me the shots that Frank insisted that I have. John also had sex with me 2 or 3 times during that period which, if I believe what you are telling me, would have been the same time he was sleeping with Cathy. He was also the guy that grabbed me on the last night when I was taken away. I am not sure I can give you any hard evidence other than what I remember, but he was involved.”

I pulled my notebook out of my pocket and started scribbling notes.

“As for Cathy, there are only 3 things I remember that imply she was involved too. The last night I saw her, she came in the bathroom when I got out of the shower and made some comments on how ‘girly’ I was looking lately. It puzzled me at the time why she would think that, but all she did was make a joke about it.

“On the last Saturday morning, when I got home from work, I found 2 bottles of pills in the trash. They were not bottles I recognized, but they had the words ‘Steve’s pills’ handwritten on them. I had no idea what they were, and both bottles were only half empty, so I set them on the counter with the plan of talking to Cathy Sunday morning about them. Well, I never got home Sunday morning, so that conversation never happened.

“I have the impression, for some reason, that the entire show at the party that I worked that night for Frank was staged. Vicky and …”

“Would that be Vicky Williams?” I interrupted.

“Yes, Vicky’s full name was Vicky Williams, and she was my friend. Anyway, our job at these parties was to entertain Frank’s guests as we were requested.”

“By ‘entertain’ you mean have sex with?” I asked. The tone in my voice was unintentional, though I found the whole concept distasteful. I tried to hide that. I didn’t succeed.

“Agent McNeil, I am sorry if you find what I have done in my past disgusting. I am not proud of it, and I am not sure how much of it I did of my own free will, and how much I was manipulated into. Perhaps I deserve your distain, perhaps I don’t. I would really like to get to a full understanding before others stand in judgment of me or, worse, I stand in judgment of myself.”

His voice was controlled and calm, but very cold, and I actually felt ashamed for letting my own prejudice into the conversation. He was also right; at this point I should give him the benefit of the doubt, because we don’t have enough evidence to say what really happened. However, there was also a very stubborn side of me that would not let me back down, so I just looked at him and did not respond. A good 30 seconds passed while we just sat there and looked at each other. Atkins gave a light shake of his head and looked back down at his hands.

“As I was saying, as the evening was winding down, and it had been a very slow evening. That means not much sex, Agent McNeil. Vicky and I were getting ready to leave with two of Frank’s men decided they wanted my attention. This was unusual, because Frank’s crew never got involved in the parties; they were there more as support or security. I knew I would get in trouble with Frank if I turned them down and the situation would be worse than if I just went along with them.

Where they wanted to play was at the front of the house in sight of the front door, the same door that Cathy walked through 10 minutes later, catching me in the act. When I first saw Cathy, she was looking right at me with a smile on her face. Once she saw me looking at her the hysterics started, and she ran outside to where both sets of parents were waiting. I chased after her, then I chased after Frank, and sometime later I woke up on an airplane. Everything seems like it was planned, including Cathy finding me.”

Atkins paused for a moment as if collecting his thoughts. I could see a tear forming in his eye and assumed he was thinking about the betrayal. I had some more questions I wanted to ask, but felt I had already made enough of an ass out of myself so I just sat and waited.

“Are you okay, Steph?” Stacy asked from across the room.

Atkins nodded and continued, “When the plane landed we were loaded in a van and driven to a large garage type area. The drive was only about 5 minutes, so it was not far from the airstrip.”

Again I was taking notes. That could be a useful piece of information, as the place we are looking for, or at least one of them, would have an airstrip as part of the complex.

“Inside the garage we saw Anne again, and she gave us a speech on the international S&M call girl ring that we were now a part of. She introduced us to her husband Robert and her sadistic assistant Charlie.”

“Do you have their last names?” I asked

“Sorry, Agent McNeil, they were a little short on formal introductions that night. No one used last names. However we were introduced to their nice little toy that looked like a large steel sawhorse which had a hole in the middle of it. In turn, each of us were strapped to this thing and while our balls were being burned off through the hole, our right butt cheeks were being branded with our new names. I am sure you have seen that brand, Agent McNeil, and I assume you deem the name to be appropriate.” His voice was rising and cracking, tears forming.

“Stephanie, please.” Stacy pleaded

That last comment stung, and I had to fight the urge to defend myself. Paula just looked at me, trying to judge how I would respond, and I was trying to figure out the same thing.

Before I could come up with a response, Atkins continued. “I would like to be alone for a while if you don’t mind. I have covered the range of my current memories, and if I can remember anything else I will let you know. I have many things to think through and I would like to have some time to do so. Paula, if you and Agent McNeil would please excuse me?”

“Stephanie, we really need to talk some more, and we should not leave these hard feelings on the table.” Paula commented.

“Yes,” Atkins agreed, “we do need to talk some more, but not today. I would really like to have some time to digest what you all have told me and try to understand what it means to me. This is going to sound worse than it is meant to be, but I have had enough people manipulating my thoughts over the past years that I would really like to have some time to think for myself without the external influence.”

Paula considered that, then agreed “Yes, I think that may be best for right now. You have my office number, and you can always ask the nurse to fetch me.”

Paula stood and lightly tugged on my jacket sleeve as a hint that I was to get up as well. I knew the current discussions had degraded to the point nothing useful was going to follow, and I did have a few new pieces of information to work with so I rose as well.

“Stacy, could you stay for a little bit?” Atkins asked

I glanced at Stacy and she gave me the ‘I don’t know’ shrug, so I gave her a quick nod and followed Dr. Rienfelt out of the room without saying a word, closing the door behind me.

“Dan, you have a minute to join me in my office?” Paula asked once we were in the hall.

“Sure.”

We caught the elevator for the two floor descent and walked to Paula’s office without much conversation. I assumed that what she wanted to talk about was not meant for idle eavesdropping. I was also pretty sure the topic would be the battle of words that Atkins and I had just gone through. I was feeling regretful about pushing Atkins that hard, that had not really been my intention. I guess playing the role of the cop just comes natural. We entered Paula’s office and she offered coffee, which I accepted.

Her office was pretty large by most standards that I had seen at the hospital so far. She had a large executive desk that sat centered in the room, but towards the back. In front of the desk were three guest chairs and a couch scattered around the walls. Paula motioned me to the couch while she turned one of the guest chairs to face me and sat down.

“Dan, I don’t know how to ask this except for straight out, but are you sure your personal biases are going to allow you to work this case?”

The question was more or less expected, but still I could feel the anger start to boil within me. I had to deal with questions like this from Holiday, but not from Paula.

“Paula, I don’t want to sound combative, but I am not sure you really are in any position to question my ability to manage a case. I really did not mean for the conversation this morning to go where it did, but what happened is over, and we need to move forward.”

Paula sipped her coffee before responding “Mike Holiday was pretty concerned as to whether you would be able to approach this case objectively. He called me a couple of weeks ago to discuss it. He told me about your personal situation with your brother, and how he felt that may put the current activity in jeopardy.”

I was stunned. My boss was talking to the Psychiatrist on my case about my background and questioning my ability to be objective. This was way out of line, and I could feel the explosion in my temper building. I felt my face flush with both anger and embarrassment. My personal family issues were being dredged up and discussed with people outside the family.

I stared at Paula for a few seconds with some not so nice of words on the tip of my tongue. During that few seconds I realized there were a couple of ways to respond to this, and choosing the wrong one could do significant damage to my ability to stay on this case and my relationship with Paula and Holiday.

Instead of responding, I picked up my coffee and leaned back on the couch to think it through. Paula, being the professional that she was, sat and watched me, waiting for my response and offered no other thoughts.

“I don’t see how my personal life, which I would prefer was left out of this, has anything to do with this case and your patient.” I finally responded in what I hoped was a calm, level voice.

“It shouldn’t, and doesn’t.” Paula responded, “unless you allow it to, and that is something I think you need to be careful of. I think I saw a little bit of it this morning, and I wanted to caution you. However, that is not the reason I wanted to have this discussion, but maybe it has something to do with it.”

“Okay, so other than letting me know that you are spying on me for my boss, and you are talking about my family behind my back, what would you like to discuss?”

Paula ignored my opening jab as if it was not said .“I wanted to share with you my opinion on Stephanie, what I think she is going through, what I think she is thinking etc. Maybe I can give you some insight in how to judge her actions and responses.”

“Be my guest.” I am sure my voice was still a little testy, but I really didn’t like the idea of people talking about me behind my back.

Paula took a few moments to gather her thoughts while sipping her coffee. “Right now the biggest battle going on in her or his head is trying to understand if she is a she or if she is a he. I don’t think she really remembers, or understands how she made the transition from male to female. In her mind it was not something she would willingly do, yet it happened. Her memories don’t include the emotions that she was going through at the time, so she can’t reconcile the difference between being forced to do something and doing it willfully.

“The same is true for the sex part that occurred before she was taken. Neither Steve nor Stephanie believe they would have willingly participated in that activity. Yet, the memories are there to show she did. If she convinces herself, or someone else convinces her, that she was a willing participant in any or all of these activities it would be a major violation of her own self belief system.“

“What do you mean ‘self-belief system’? People lie to themselves and others all the time.”

“True, but, as in yourself, you believe you are a very objective person when working a case and study all angles. Any indication, either from yourself or someone else, that what you believe is not the case causes you to react. First off, defensiveness, and secondly, you start questioning yourself to make sure you still believe you are objective. “

Okay, she had a point there. I just went through it, maybe still going through it. I nodded my understanding.

“In Stephanie’s case, she does not believe she is capable of any of things she remembers. Transitioning to a girl, having sex with men, having public displays of sluttish behavior, etc. However, her memories are contrary to what she believes, and, like you, she is seeking the truth. If for some reason she starts to believe that she willingly did those things, then her entire belief system will be destroyed, her self-confidence will be shot, and she will become far and away her own biggest critic.

“This morning, when you started challenging her, I could see her self-confidence crumble, as obviously you did not think she was the person she thought she was, and that concept pained her. I could see her thought processes think that maybe you were right ,and she was not, and maybe all she is, is trash.”

“That wasn’t my intent at all.”

“Maybe not, but I am asking you to consider these things going forward. Stephanie is not the criminal you are looking for. Breaking her is not your goal. Perhaps a little extra compassion will get dividends on new information so you can find the real criminals here.”

I had to agree with her on that. Atkins was not the person or persons I was looking for. Beating Atkins down and making him/her feel worse about his/her self was not the goal, and would add no value. I knew this fact when the day started, so why did I challenge her this morning? Why did I just think of him as a her? Perhaps I not being as objective as I thought I was. Now I was questioning myself, and wasn’t that the point that Paula had just made? I was still pretty peeved about Rienfelt and Holiday comparing notes on me, and refused to let on that Paula had a point, but this was something I was going to have to think about.

“Okay, Doctor.” I responded after a moment “I see your point and I will consider it. Is there anything else?”

“Dan, there is no reason to get angry about this, we are all on the same team here.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I am not used to having people talk about me behind my back, and I am not sure I am going to get used to it. However, you do make some good points that I will need to consider. So, if there is nothing else?”

“No, I think that is everything,” Paula responded with a sign of resignation. “Give me a call anytime you have questions.”

“Thank you Doctor.” I set my coffee cup on the table and left.

Later, in the afternoon, I got a call from Stacy to just give me an update on her day with Atkins. No new information had been disclosed. All Atkins did was use Stacy as a sounding board concerning her options going forward. Stacy’s attitude towards me was pretty distant and cold. I think she felt I was attacking Atkins as well. I tried to broach the subject with her, and all she said was my attack was uncalled for and did some real damage. However, she would not elaborate, nor would she talk to me any further.

I was sitting on my patio having a beer and thinking about the day when my cell rang. It was Tina, who, proceeded to chew my butt for being an insensitive jerk. I argued that I was not insensitive. I couldn’t tell her that I had Atkins’ picture lying on my lap at the time. I decided I needed another beer.

The Princess of the Desert

By Melodie Thomas

Edited by Holly Hart

Chapter 4

Monday, September 8, 2008
My right fist slammed into the heavy bag as hard as I could throw it, and I felt the shockwave all the way to my toes. The bag did not move nearly as far as it had a half hour ago, when I started. My arms felt like lead, but I didn’t care if they fell off. However, my knees finally gave up on me as I fell into the bag, and I had to hang on, so I wouldn’t hit the floor. This has already been a shitty day, and it was not even noon yet.

I didn’t visit Atkins at all over the weekend. Actually, I didn’t go back to the hospital, nor did I go to work. I took the weekend off. I had been catching enough flak at the end of the week that I just didn’t want to deal with it. Stacy was at the hospital full time and Tina visited a couple of times, and both gave me updates, but those updates were very short, cold and to the point. There was no doubt that I was being considered the bad guy right now.

By the time Sunday night came around, I had convinced myself there was no way I was going to be able to continue being effective on this case, when everything I said or did would be looked at as an affront to Atkins, everyone’s Princess. No one thought I could deal with this situation and I was even beginning to doubt it myself.

I decided that when I got to work Monday morning I was going to call Holiday, and ask to be removed from the case. That all changed with the first email I’d opened this morning.

I had an email from the Cybercrime unit, which said they had found a video in which the participant seemed to have a similar brand on the right buttocks as our victims. How these guys can comb through the thousands upon thousands of porn videos that are currently on the web and identify 2 or 3 frames that trigger some search engine is well beyond me. The email requested that I show the video to Atkins to see if the players could be identified.

I downloaded the video to my laptop and launched it. The initial scene showed what appeared to be a woman in a very short dress being led into the room by a rope around her neck. The way she walked it was pretty easy to tell she was high on something. The person doing the leading appeared to be a white male but he was wearing a full hooded mask. The only identifying mark was a red lightning bolt tattoo on his right arm.

The woman’s ankles were handcuffed to a couple of rings on the floor that forced her to stand with her legs apart. Her hands were then hooked to a couple of chains hanging from the ceiling that resulted in standing with her legs spread and arms held over her head.

After the woman was bound, the man that led her in walked in front of her, grabbed her dress at the neckline and in one quick motion, tore the dress away from her. Standing naked, it was obvious this was not a woman but another TS or shemale. The man left the scene, only to be replaced by another man, similarly dressed but with no tattoo. The second man was carrying something, but I could not tell what it was.

I did not realize that I had the sound turned up on my computer. The sound that came out of that computer not only brought two other Agents charging into my office with weapons drawn, but pretty much set me up for nightmares for the next month. I could not get that video shut off fast enough to avoid getting the images trapped in my mind, and probably my nightmares.

Even with four years in the military and eight years with the FBI, I had never seen such raw, savage, brutality as I had just witnessed on my small computer screen. I sat in my chair and could not stop shaking. The shock and anger was over whelming. The person whose integrity I had been questioning had lived through brutality like this. I don’t know if my anger was now focused on the people responsible or on myself, but I now wanted these bastards, and I wanted them bad.

I grabbed my gym bag.

After showering, I called Tina and Paula to set up a time to meet with Atkins and review the video, we settled on 2pm.

At 1:15 I was sitting in my car in the hospital parking lot. I needed to talk to Atkins, preferably alone, to try to reach some level of a peace agreement. I needed him to solve this case, and I was determined to solve it. At the same time I was dreading showing this video. I didn’t think I was in a weakened emotional state and I knew what the video had done to me, I didn’t want to imagine what it would do to him. I still couldn’t get those images out of my head, and I had to see them again.

As I approached Atkins’ room, I saw that the door was open and I stopped in the doorway. Atkins was standing at the window looking out on the city. Her hair was brushed out and laying down her back while being held in a loose ponytail with a yellow ribbon. She was wearing a similar terry cloth robe as the last time I saw her, and it was pulled tight around her, highlighting her figure. No one else appeared to be in the room. The extended stay rooms were really small apartments, consisting of a living room with a separate bedroom and bathroom. The living area consisted of a sofa and two matching chairs with a television.

“Come on in, Agent McNeil. “Atkins said without turning from the window.

“I’m sorry” I responded, not sure what I was sorry for. “The door was open.”

“Yes,” Atkins responded turning towards me. I could see she was wearing makeup today, including pink lipstick. “I have dealt with enough closed doors. I like the freedom of having it open.”

I nodded my understanding and entered the room. Atkins motioned me to a chair and sat down in another chair opposite.

“Where is Stacy?” I asked

“She needed a break and wanted to go for a run.” Atkins responded. “I promised her I would stay in my room.”

The whole point of a protection detail was to stay with the principal. The fact that Stacy was not here bothered me and I would have to discuss it with her later. However, I also understood that we had not been able to provide support for her yet. But still, leaving a principal unprotected is not acceptable.

“I am glad you came.” Atkins said. “I was hoping to see you alone for a bit.”

The comment surprised me, I was expecting the opposite. “Why is that?”

“Because, we need to work together to find the people that kidnapped me, the fighting between us will not accomplish that.”

I smiled. “I was having the exact same thoughts, and that is the reason I came early today in hopes of talking to you, not so much in an official capacity.”

“Good, so we have the same goal.” Atkins smiled. “It would help if you would start calling me Stephanie.”

I nodded while I thought for a second. “I have a question, but I am not sure it is going to sound right when I ask it. So, please give me a little slack if it doesn’t.” I was actually proud of myself. I had thought before I opened my mouth for once.

“Okay, go ahead”

“Stephanie…, so does that mean you plan to stay as a…”

“Female?” Stephanie finished for me.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“I don’t know the answer to that, Agent McNeil.”

“Dan, please.” I want to break these walls down too.

“Okay, ‘Dan’.” She smiled. I do like that smile. “The short answer to your question is … I don’t know. I guess I introduced myself to everyone as Stephanie when I woke up, and since then, that is the name everyone has addressed me by. When I look in a mirror, I don’t see Steven, I see Stephanie, so I may as well go with a name that matches what I look like.

“I have thought about this a lot over the last couple of days and I come to a couple of points. First what Doctor Gibson told me about what it would take to change me back, and the low chances of success, and second, the fact that your FBI probably would not let me change back now anyway.”

“What do you mean?” I was puzzled.

“I am evidence. I will be a key witness in any trial for anyone that is caught. The way I look is part of that evidence. Yes, that could be covered with pictures, but what better jury impact would there be then a victim of forced feminization sitting on the stand telling the story? Therefore, I think the FBI, prosecutors and everyone else involved in the case would wish to do everything they could to keep me as I am until after such trials are over.”

She had a point I had not thought about, but I could see things playing out just that way. Becoming what she is, was maybe not her choice, and staying this way may not be her choice either. We could never ‘force’ it, but I know the lengths some may go to in ‘suggesting’ it.

“So,” Stephanie continued, “I am guessing that I will probably be required to live as Stephanie for at least a year, if not longer. With that in mind, I may as well just accept it, for now, and take my time with any final decisions.

“Now, she smiled, “My new keepers, and I say that in a good way, are doing the best they can to feminize me as well. The hair and the makeup are all Stacy, with Paula’s help. The interesting part is I don’t mind, I don’t find playing the role all that uncomfortable. I will be honest, that surprises me.

“Given all of that, I would prefer to just be called Stephanie for now. It is just a name, and using it, should not imply agreement or acknowledgment of my femininity, or whatever else is bothering you. Can you do that?”

I thought about it for a minute. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

Stephanie smiled as she took off her slippers and pulled her feet up under her in the chair. The way she was sitting there exhibited female posture, and it looked natural, not like she was putting on a show.

“Dan, I thank you for the honesty. I am going to ask you to do me a favor and always be honest with me., on what you think, what you feel and what you know. That is the only way that you and I are going to be able to keep working together, and I will do the same for you.”

“Alright, I promise to be as honest with you as I can be.” I replied, after a moment, “So, another question, if you don’t mind, since Friday, you seem to be accepting all of this fairly well.”

That earned me a laugh. I like her laugh too.

“Dan,” Stephanie chuckled, “Then I should be given an academy award. The most unfeminine thing I am doing right now is hiding my emotions. No, I am hurt. I am sick, and I am terrified, but I am forcing my way through it. I could easily become a blubbering, babbling idiot, but that will not get the people that did this caught, nor will it get my friends back. I am still suffering from the drug withdrawals, I have more aches in my body than I can count, and I am scared to death they are going to come back after me.” The smile faded and an aurora of sadness came over her. “I am also terrified about what I am going to learn about myself.”

“That last part bothers you more than the rest of it, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does. I just can’t fathom that I did the things that I remember doing. I think that is the worst part, at least for me.”

“How much are you remembering?”

“I seem to be getting bits and pieces, more like flashes than specific memories. Before you ask, I really don’t want to talk about them right now. We can later but, right now I am just enjoying the visit.”

We sat silently for a moment. “Can you tell me,” Atkins started, “What it is about me that angers you so much?”

I had thought about this a little on the way to the hospital. Should I tell my story? Would that help build some rapport? It was not really something I wanted to talk about, while at the same time, I really needed to get Atkins to work with me, and I needed to work with her. If I showed that I am willing to show something of myself, it may build a stronger relationship. I need her to trust me, and, I guess, that trust has to go both ways.

I sighed, “There is nothing about you, specifically, that I am angry with. You just symbolize something that I am against for personal reasons.”

“Is it too much to ask that you share that with me? Maybe if I understand where you are coming from it will make things easier too.”

I stood up and started pacing the room, thinking to myself. I walked over and softly closed the door.

“It is not necessary,” Stephanie said, “if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“I was twelve years old when my father died in an oil well fire in Texas.” I started. “That left only my mother, my brother and me, as the youngest. My male model in life, growing up through my teens was my brother Ben. He taught me to play ball, he taught me to work, he taught me to fight and he taught me to chase girls. He was the man, he was my idol, and he taught me to be a man. All I wanted to do is grow up and be as good as Ben was at everything. I worshiped the ground he walked on, even into our twenties, he was still my idol.”

“So what happened?”

I stopped pacing and stood looking out the window. I was not sure I wanted to answer that question, but I had to. “About three years ago, Ben announced that he had been living a lie all his life and he was really a girl in a man’s body. He started dressing like a girl and changed his name to Brenda, and now lives full time as a female. The entire foundation that I had modeled my life after collapsed in a single day. Somebody had to have done this too him. Ben would not have done this himself. But I don’t know who they are. I don’t know who to defend him from. I don’t know how to deal with it.”

“Now,” Stephanie said quietly, “you strike out at the symbols that you see, like me.”

“If everything was a lie,” I continue, “Then what was everything he taught me? What were the times we spent together? Then, of course, there was dealing with the rest of the family and friends. How I was supposed to be supportive? How? Is he still my brother, or sister? Hell, I don’t know. But I was supposed to be supportive of what? A lie? Something that was not real?”

I didn’t know what else to say, so I stood there staring out the window.

“When was the last time you talked to your brother?” Stephanie asked.

“Three years ago.”

“So, you think your brother was taken by some indeterminate ‘they,’ and now every symbol you see of the gay or transgender world is lumped into the general category of ‘they’, and you fight them in hope of bringing your brother back?”

I couldn’t help but smile, as that was the same thing I had heard from therapists in the past. I returned to my chair. “Are you a psychiatrist as well as a lawyer?”

“No,” Stephanie smiled, “I am neither a psychiatrist nor a lawyer. Actually, I am pretty much of a nothing. But, I think I understand you better now.”

I was about to comment on her ‘pretty much of a nothing’ statement when the door to her room suddenly burst open and Stacy charged in.

“Stephanie! Are you okay?” Stacy called as she rushed to Stephanie’s side. I needed body armor to hide from the looks I was getting.

“I am fine, Stacy.” Stephanie said as she patted Stacy’s hand. “Dan and I were just having a conversation. Nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” Stacy continued to give me icy stares.

“Yeah,” I responded, “Just a good thing I wasn’t a shooter.” giving Stacy the same stare in return.

Just then I heard more sounds behind me and turned to see Paula and Tina entering the room.

“What,” I asked, “did you need to call in the Cavalry?”

Tina and Paula gave each other a puzzled look. “We are just here to see the video.” Tina said.

I looked at my watch and it was ten minutes till the hour. I had been here a half hour already, but it sure didn’t feel like it. Both Tina and Paula went to Stephanie to exchange greetings and compliment her on how she looked. The image that popped into my mind was of three lionesses surrounding the cub. I was the jackal.

While they all chatted I pulled out my laptop and turned it on. I was really not looking forward to this. I pulled a coffee table between Stephanie and myself to use for the laptop. Stacy moved over to the couch, Paula stood by the windows behind Atkins, and Tina sat on the arm of my chair.

“Okay, Stephanie,” I said to start. “The FBI lab in Washington found a video that they think has one of the… ‘girls’,” I searched for the right word, “… that was taken by the same group that had you. I need to show this to you and see if you can identify any of the people in it.”

Atkins nodded.

Not being the totally heartless bastard that some seemed to think I am, before coming to see Stephanie, I’d edited the video clip to show only the first couple of minutes, stopping it before the brutality started. The three key players could be seen in that part, and there was no point of everyone else seeing the same images in their dreams, as I was going to see mine.

As the video started and the girl was being led into the room, Atkins’ hands covered his mouth. “No, no, no, no!!” She started shaking uncontrollably.

Tears were already rolling off of her face as she acted like she was trying to back up to get away from the screen. When the girl’s dress was ripped off, Stephanie jumped as if she was trying to run, sobbing hysterically. Without her shoes, her balance was off, and she fell toward the couch. Her chair tipped over backwards as she tried to get away. Paula, Tina and I all reacted, but Stacy was closest and wrapped Stephanie in her arms.

“Shut that damn thing off!” she demanded as she tried to hold Atkins.

I closed the lid to the laptop. Both Tina and Paula were trying to help settle Atkins down. I just stood there feeling like shit.

“Dan,” Tina said, “I think you need to leave for a while.”

“No, I want him to stay.” Stephanie sobbed. I could tell she was fighting to regain control. “Help me up, please,” She requested as she tried to get up on the couch.

Paula and Stacy helped her to the couch. Stacy sat beside her with an arm around Atkins. Paula sat on the other side.

“Well Dan,” Stephanie sniffled, “doesn’t look like I have as much control of those emotions we were talking about.” She was still shaking badly.

I sat back down. “I am sorry,” was all I could say, but that just did not seem like enough.

Stephanie took a couple of moments to get her breathing under control, but she was still shaking badly. “That must have been hard for you, Dan. I can see it in your eyes. I knew her as Erin, and she told me once she was from Boston.”

“Did you know her male name?” I asked quietly.

“No, we were not allowed to talk in the rooms. Sometimes we could communicate by writing in the dirt on the floor and share a little about each other.” Her tears were still flowing.

“Erin was in my room,” Stephanie continued. “Then one day she never came back.” The sobbing starting again while Stacy held her.

“Maybe we should take a break.” Paula suggested.

“No!” Stephanie tried to get her control back.

“Stephanie,” I spoke as softly as I could, “I am sorry, but do you remember her number?”

Nodding her head she whispered, “Yes, she was number 21. They kept us together in groups based on our numbers. Erin, Lucy, Vicky and me. Numbers 21, 22, 23 and 24.” We were all kept in the same room.” Her tears were flowing freely, but she kept trying to control them.

I looked at Tina, who was busy writing notes. We’d found that body outside of Phoenix six months earlier. This video had been shot locally.

“What about the men in the video?” Tina asked.

“The one with the tattoo was Charlie, a sadistic bastard. He was Anne’s assistant. I met him before I was taken. The other one I don’t know.”

“Why couldn’t you talk to each other?” Paula asked

“It was the rules,” Stephanie answered through her tears, “If anyone was caught talking, all of us would get the whip and would not be fed that day. I think they had microphones in the room. Sometimes we could whisper but were often caught doing that too.”

“Were you always in the same room?” I asked

Stephanie shook her head, “No. In the beginning, we would be taken somewhere in an airplane and some of the flights were very long. We were locked into a seat, and always had to wear a hood, so I have no idea where we went. Some of it is very hard to remember, because they kept us drugged most of the time, so we either slept or were very disoriented. I just don’t remember.”

We all sat quietly for a minute.

“Dan?” Stephanie asked. “What happened to Erin?”

There are days when all you want to do is crawl in a hole and pull the world in after you. Today was one of those days. I looked at Tina, who nodded, so I told Stephanie what we knew. Fifteen minutes later, Paula had to give Stephanie a sedative. I packed up my laptop, told Tina to call in to the conference with an update and left the room while the women took care of Atkins. There was not much for me to do there.

I took an hour to get my thoughts and notes organized before sending out the page to establish a conference bridge with the various departments that were involved in this case. This time I included the Boston office. We needed to share notes, discoveries on activities and directions, so everyone would have all the information. Mike Holiday would be included in the call along with the head of the Cybercrime unit, various medical experts, and representatives from D.C., New Mexico, Texas, California and Colorado.

We started the call with a discussion of what we had learned from the video. The Boston office would contact the local police and get a listing of all missing person reports for a one-year period prior to Atkins being taken. The focus would be the two to three months just prior to that, but we needed to be thorough. Based on estimation of the video, we were looking for someone in their late teens, early twenties, less than 6 feet tall, with a weight of 150 or below. If we could get an identity on the victim, not only would we be able to give one poor family closure, we would have a new background to dig through in the hope of finding common links.

The second topic was the video itself. With confirmation that the video was from the organization we were looking for, the boys in the back room could start a more detailed search for various indicators connected to the web file. They could trace the video through various servers around the country in an attempt find the source. It was clear that the odds of this happening with a single video were small but being able to narrow the search window, might help find other videos. The more videos that could be found, the better the chances of finding the source. We also discussed that the video we’d found is what is referred to as a ‘snuff’ video, not simply a pornography video, and, most likely had to come from a site that charged for membership. All agreed the search windows needed to be enlarged to cover that area of the garbage on the internet.

The last topic was the piece of information that we had on the airstrip that Stephanie had referenced twice. Agents in California, New Mexico, Arizona and Texas were attempting to compile a list of all known properties that had private airfields. We also discussed how to generate a listing of places with homemade airfields that might not be registered, and with Mexico just 150 miles to our south, what we could find about anything just across the border. Washington would put in a request to the State Department to work through the embassy in Mexico attempting to get the Mexican government’s permission, and assistance in searching the areas just south of the U.S. borders.

Tina and I argued that the focus of the search needed to be in Arizona, southern New Mexico or just over the border in Mexico. Our argument, based on Stephanie being found alive, was she could not have survived more than an hour or two in the back of that truck. Therefore, the focus area needed to be in a two to four hour drive from where Atkins had been found. The medical experts agreed with the theory, so a priority search grid was established with the highest priority focused around this last dumpsite.

After the conference call ended, I called Tina and discussed the issue of Stacy leaving Atkins unguarded. I thought it best if Tina discussed the topic with Stacy, as my relationship with Stacy was strained right now. We also agreed that we would not make a major issue of it but that Stacy needed to understand leaving her principal unguarded was not acceptable.

Once I hung up after talking to Tina, I called Mike Holiday and stressed how critical it was that we had another female agent assigned that could rotate with Stacy. We were tasking Stacy twenty-four hours a day, and that was not maintainable. Mike promised me he would do the best he could at getting us another resource.

Tina walked back in to the office late in the afternoon. “Hey,” I greeted her, “how is she?”

“Hey, yourself,” she responded as she sat at her desk. “Pretty torn up, but I think she is pretty tough and will pull through.”

“To live through what she has, tough is an understatement.”

“She asked about you,” Tina said, flipping through some papers on her desk.

“About me?”

“Yep, she saw you were hurting this afternoon. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Tina looked up at me. “You okay?”

I closed my computer and stood up. “Wasn’t a fun day, partner, wasn’t a fun day.” I walked out of the office and went home. I had an appointment with a bottle of Jack Daniels.

Saturday, September 13, 2008
A couple of small breaks occurred in the case since Monday. The cyber boys were able to trace the video to a server in Montreal, Canada. The Canadian police, always cooperative with us, served a search warrant on the house where the video originated and our agents were part of the raid. Unfortunately, all they found was that the video we saw was a remade copy of a different video. Now the dark room boys were off chasing the second video to see where it may lead.

The missing person search in Boston has resulted in a possible identification of our victim but forensics still needs to verify it. The potential victim was Robert Melons, a 20 year old Engineering student at MIT, who was reported missing on May 3, 2005, when he failed to return home from school. Dental records and other evidence was being shipped to Phoenix to compare against the autopsy findings. A preliminary background check began, but until we could notify the parents with positive results, there was only a limited amount that can be done.

Over the past few days, Tina, Stacy and I have been having ‘gentle’ conversations with Adkins. By ‘gentle’, I mean we don’t ask any questions and just let Stephanie tell us what she remembered. We realized, quickly, that she had little recognition of time. Between the drugs and isolation, it was not possible for her to understand durations or, in some cases, what events occurred before others. We started capturing the individual memories on separate pieces of paper, and trying to piece them together like a puzzle. Her memories for a single event could come at two different times, so we tried to collect common things like room descriptions, faces, and dress colors, anything she could remember. Write those on an index card we could then compare them to other index cards as a way to find conjoining memories. Perhaps we could rebuild the past events, one index card at a time.

That is not to imply the process has been easy for Stephanie, it has not. As the memories of things that could help us resurface, so do the memories of what was done to her during those events. In discussions with Stacy and Paula I had learned that Stephanie is very hard on herself for many of those activities, though everyone keeps telling her it wasn’t her fault. I am not sure she is seeing it that way.

Thursday, I received a call from Holiday that a new agent has been assigned to our team. The new agent is 31 year old Mary Scotts, a ten year veteran of the FBI with five years field experience. Having an experienced agent work with Stacy will be good for her. Mike also told me that we were moving Atkins to a three-bedroom apartment a block away from the hospital. Both Stacy and Mary would live with Atkins and it is close enough to the hospital for Atkins to continue to see Paula.

The new apartment brought with it another problem. Stephanie did not have any clothes. I discussed the issue with Mike and he was able to get $200 from the victims fund for Atkins. Tina saw that and went ballistic, there was no way they could buy decent women’s clothes for that little. I told her I would call Mike back, and the next day handed her a pre-paid Visa card with $5000 on it, but Tina had to go do the shopping, like that broke her heart.

Mary arrived in Tucson and I met her at the office. She is about the same size as Tina but with short dark hair that barely covered her ears. We spent about an hour in the office reviewing the case files, and then I had Mary follow me to the hospital. We were going to meet with Tina, Stacy, Paula and Stephanie for lunch, and then move them to the apartment.

The door to Stephanie’s room was open as usual, so I knocked and walked in. As I entered, Stephanie walked out of her bedroom, and I think my jaw bounced off the floor. Her hair had been brushed behind her shoulders in gentle waves, so I knew it had been styled. She was wearing a white dress with small black dots, and black 4” open toe heels. I had never seen her with anything but the terry cloth robe on, damn.

When she saw me she walked up to me. “Do I look as weird as I feel?” she asked with that killer smile.

“Weird, is not have been the word I would have used,” I stuttered.

“Sure feels weird to me.” she said as she turned and walked back across the room.

I was watching her walk away when I felt a bump on my left elbow. I turned to see Tina walk past.
“Stop drooling, McNeil” she said as she passed me.

I am sure I turned the color of a ripe tomato at that point.

Mary came in behind me and I introduce her to everyone there. We were still waiting for Paula. Mary and Stacy had just gone into the bedroom to have a discussion when Paula walked in.

“Everyone ready for lunch?” Paula asked.

“On one condition,” Stephanie said. “We go somewhere besides the hospital cafeteria. I know I should not be that picky but, I am tired of the food from that place.”

We debated it for a few minutes and decided a small sidewalk café just down the road would be good. Mary and Stacy came back and told us they would not be joining us for lunch. They were going to move the suitcases to the apartment and then walk around the apartment complex and neighborhood.

As the four of us exited the front door of the hospital, Tina and Stephanie were leading, with Paula and I walking a bit behind them. Stephanie almost seemed to have a skip in her step, and did not seem to be having any problems with the high heels.

“She seems to be feeling good today.” I said to Paula

Paula smiled, “It’s called freedom, Dan. Remember, this is probably the first time she has been outside, on her own, in over three years.”

No, I had not thought of that and it actually made me feel good to see her that happy. It only took ten minutes for us to reach the café and select an outside table. Tina and Stephanie sat opposite Paula and me. Lunch was served and the conversation just flowed about general things, mostly between Stephanie and the two girls. Tina was telling stories about her kids and Paula would be telling stories about her work and or vacations. I couldn’t help but wonder what this was like for Stephanie, to be listening the lives of others, while hers had been taken away from her. Yet, she was acting happy and seemed to be truly enjoying the moment.

“You know what I really want?” Stephanie said while finishing her sandwich. “A good barbeque. I love barbeque and, well, I haven’t had it in a while.” I could see a flash of sadness cross her face.

“If you want good barbeque,” Tina said, “then you need to talk Danny boy there into cooking for you. He does a killer barbeque, ribs and brisket.”

“Really?” Paula asked

“You have what,” Tina continued, addressing me, “two smokers built into your backyard?”

“Well, then you will have to cook for us,” Paula said.

I smiled. “I am sure we can arrange something.”

“When?” Stephanie asked, “That would be fun, if you don’t mind.”

“Mind?” Tina jumped in, “He loves to show off his cooking skills on those things.”

It’s true, I do. “I don’t know, how about next weekend?” I said, just throwing something out there.

“I will find someone to take make kids,” Tina said. “Paula, Stephanie, you okay with that?”

Around the table agreement was reached that next weekend I would be hosting a barbeque at my place. Paula said she would not be bringing a date, so it would be Stephanie, Paula, Tina and her husband, Stacy and Mary if they wanted to come.

Lunch lasted about another half hour before Stacy and Mary walked up, ready to escort Stephanie to her new home. After Stephanie left, Paula needed to get back to her office leaving Tina and me alone.

“You did good, Danny boy.” Tina looked at me.

“What do you mean?”

“The money, the clothes, lunch and offering to barbeque. Don’t bother denying the money, either. Mike called me, and apologized that he could not get more. There is only one place it could have come from.”

I looked at my drink, “Does Stephanie know?”

“No. I figured if you wanted her to know you would have told her. Why did you do it, Dan?”

“I don’t know, I guess she just deserved to have a little bit, considering the hell she has been through.”

Tina thought for a moment. “You okay with the transsexual thing? With Atkins living as a girl?”

I smiled, “No, Tina, I am not magically cured of my bias. I still don’t understand it, and I’m not sure I ever will. But, it is not a battle that I am interested in fighting right now. I want the guys that did this to Atkins and the others. Atkins will make up her own mind at some point what she is. Not my issue.”

“Okay, but you still did good.”

In my own mind, the separation was not as clear as I’d told Tina. I had never known Atkins as anything but a girl, and I was still having a hard time remembering which he or she really was. All I saw is a female, but I knew what was under the clothes.

The Princess of the Desert

By Melodie Thomas

Edited by Holly Hart

Chapter 5

Thursday, September 18, 2008
Forensics positively identified Robert Melons of Boston as the body found a little over six months ago. The ongoing detailed investigation into his background has revealed nothing to explain why he was kidnapped. No evidence of transsexual behavior or ties to such behavior was found. Everything that we have found says he was just a kid going to school.

The trail of the video that was found has run into two more copy points and is still being chased. So far the trail has crossed nearly all the states and Canada, still with no indication where it originated.

The situation with Stephanie is starting to bother me quite a bit. Whenever I meet with her, or reports I get of her meetings with the others, she appears bright, bubbly, inquisitive and very happy. However, I get reports from Mary, who takes the night shift watch in the apartment, and almost every night she finds Stephanie sitting on the floor in a corner crying. We discussed this information with Paula and the feedback we get is that it is probably the result of nightmares, and we just need to give her more time. I am developing a gut feeling that it is more than that.

The memory puzzle that we are building with Stephanie is becoming confusing. Stephanie will describe a random series of events, and when we compare those descriptions with the information already collected; we are finding some of the stories seem to be in conflict with each other. I don’t know how to put my finger on it but something just does not seem right here.

Today, Tina and I are meeting with Stephanie and Stacy for lunch at the hospital cafeteria before Stephanie’s afternoon appointment with Dr. Reinfelt. I was hoping to ask Stephanie a couple of questions to help clarify a few of the events that she described, and wanted some time with Paula after their session to discuss my concerns.

As Tina and I were sitting in the waiting area outside the cafeteria she said, “Stacy took Stephanie shopping again this morning. That seems to be good for her, she enjoys it.”

“I guess I don’t understand,” I responded. “Less than two weeks ago she was not even sure she wanted to be a girl, and now she can’t buy enough clothes? Doesn’t that seem a little strange to you?”

“Dan, you are just letting your bias show through again.”

I was pondering a response when I heard my name called. “Dan, Tina, Hi!” I saw Stephanie and Stacy come out of the elevator.

The one thing I will openly admit, the image that Stephanie put on was that of a very beautiful woman. Today she was wearing a white blouse with a red skirt that stopped just above her knees. That was topped off with red 4” heeled shoes, long dangling earrings and red lipstick. Her smile was incredible. Still, something did not feel right to me.

“Stacy and I just went shopping. You like it?” Stephanie asked as she did a small spin.

“It’s beautiful.” Tina said.

“How about you, Dan?” Stephanie flashed one of her million dollar smiles.

“The bigger question is,” I answered, “do you like it?”

“I love it. It makes me feel so good.”

Stacy, Tina and Stephanie entered the cafeteria, with me behind them. I was having difficulty with this. Two weeks ago, I was dealing with a person with no memory. That transformed into a person that was asking about changing back, then became a person that was in acceptance, and now, I feel like I have high school girl with me. This just was not adding up.

As we entered the service line, Stephanie held back so she was going through the line just ahead of me.

“I am so much looking forward to the barbeque this weekend.” Stephanie said.

I smiled, “I hope so. Do you have any special requests?” I answered.

“Not really, I think whatever you cook will be wonderful.”

As we reached the end of the line, Stephanie had only selected a salad and a cup of coffee. “That is not very much for lunch.” I commented.

“Well,” Stephanie smiled at me, “I need to watch my figure,” following the smile with a wink.

Alarm bells were going off in my head, but I was not sure what alarm. Someone that I knew was not a woman was flirting with me. Was this just my bias resurfacing as Tina claimed?

Tina and Stacy had already selected a table when I paid for Stephanie’s lunch and my own. Since Stephanie could not grasp her tray with her left hand, she was holding the tray from underneath with her left palm up. Stephanie was leading the way to the table when a man, seated at one of the tables, stood and accidentally bumped her right arm. The bump pushed the tray off Stephanie’s left hand and she could not catch it. The cup of coffee on her tray tipped off and landed on the left shoulder of an orderly sitting at an adjacent table.

“God Damn it!” the man cursed, jumping to his feet as the hot coffee covered his front and back.

As the man tried to get away from the hot coffee, he bumped the woman sitting next to him, causing her to spill her drink across the table. The two people opposite them also jumped their feet to avoid the liquid spreading on the table.

Stephanie’s hands were covering her mouth and her eyes filled with horror. She took a step back from the table then turned and started running.

“Stephanie!” I called out as I set my tray down and chased after her.

Stephanie continued to run down the hall but she was not going towards the hospital exit. I could hear Stacy call out behind me. Stephanie rounded a corner in the hall and ran into a couple walking the other way. The impact knocked her off her feet and she landed on her side, sliding into the wall. I reached her within a second as she was trying to get up. I pulled her into my arms; she was shaking and crying violently.

Her eyes were pleading as she looked at me. “I can’t do this anymore.” She sobbed. “Why didn’t you just let me die? Why? I can’t do this.”

Stacy arrived at my side, but when she reached out, Stephanie cowered away from her and closer to me. With a shocked expression, Stacy backed off. Tina was on the phone to someone, giving orders. Soon I heard the PA announce a ‘Code 3’ in the cafeteria hallway. I have no idea what a Code 3 is but assumed it had something to do with us. Within minutes, two orderlies with a gurney came running down the hall, followed by Paula. As the orderlies set up the gurney, Paula tried to talk to Stephanie and received the same reaction as Stacy had. Stephanie had wrapped her arms around my neck, so I scooped her up in my arms, lifting her to the gurney.

Two hours later, Stephanie had been readmitted to the hospital and was under sedation. Tina had called Mary, who is now guarding outside Stephanie’s room. The right shoulder of my shirt was still wet from Stephanie’s tears as I entered Paula’s office, set down my briefcase and dropped into a chair. I didn’t realize how much I was shaking until just now. I sat there, alone for about ten minutes, thinking, before Paula, Tina and Stacy came in.

Paula sat down at her desk while Stacy took the other chair. Tina walked up behind me and gave me a quick shoulder squeeze, then sat down on the couch.

“So, what happened?” I asked

“I really don’t know,” Paula answered, “I will have to wait until I talk to her.”

“I think we are doing something wrong here.” I said.

“What do you mean?” Paula challenged. I could see it in her eyes she took that as an insult.

“I don’t really know, I just think we are missing something important.”

“I don’t think so,” Paula answered. “We just need to give her more time.”

“Are you really, and I mean really, sure that Atkins is a ‘her’? I asked.

“Of course she is a ‘her’.” Stacy responded with anger in her voice.

“How do you know that?” I continued to challenge.

“Well, just look at her!” Stacy answered with a ‘what are you thinking’ attitude.

“I have, and I see something that somebody else made, and that is not necessarily a ‘her’.”

“Trust me, Dan,” Paula interjected, “I am far more qualified than you think to know what she is going through?”

“How is that?” I asked, sensing there was more here than her professional background.

“Let’s just say, I know what she is going through. I have been there.”

“You have been kidnapped and abused?” I asked.

“No, Dan, the sex change.” Paula looked me in the eye with a cold stare. “I am a male to female transsexual, Dan, a full, post op transsexual.”

I was stunned at that revelation. I just sat there in shock. I could see that neither Tina nor Stacy were surprised. Seems some discussions have been going on behind my back.

“I transitioned while in high school and had my SRS done when I finished college. That is why I was assigned to this case. I have a unique insight to what ‘SHE’ is going through.”

I sat there for a moment, trying to gather my wits again. “Okay, but I still don’t agree with you.”

“What don’t you agree with? That a boy or a girl can feel they are the wrong sex and what to change it?

“That is a completely different discussion. We are talking specifically about Stephanie, and I don’t think what you did, or went through, has any relation to her.”

“It has everything to do with her. We are working to help her accept who she is. Can’t you see that?”

“Accept who she is?” my voice was starting to rise, “Hell, Paula, she doesn’t even know ‘what’ she is. How can she accept that?

“Damn it, McNeil! When are you going to accept the fact that some people are different? Maybe, if you learned that you would still be talking to your brother!” Rienfelt’s voice was rising as well.

“My brother has nothing to do with this!”

“No?” Paula stood, leaning on her desk towards me, shouting. “I have been putting up with close-minded, discriminating assholes like you my entire life! I know precisely what she needs to do to survive the likes of you!

I stood and stepped to the desk, leaning into her. “Really Doctor? Then maybe some of us close-minded discriminating assholes owe you an apology, but that is not the case with Atkins!” I shouted back at her.

“It is exactly the same! You are just too blind to see it!”

My anger was at a boiling point “Doctor,” I shouted into her face, “have you ever been hung up by your arms and had a cattle prod shoved up your ass? She has!” I felt the tears start flowing from my eyes. “She has!”

My anger was building even higher, and the fact I could not control the tears made it worse. I spun around and grabbed my laptop out of my briefcase, taking it out of sleep mode. I slammed if on Paula’s desk.

“Watch the fucking video,” I said as I hit the play button. “Just watch the video and tell me you know how to deal with this!”

Tina and Stacy moved around by Paula to watch. When the sound of the scream came out of the speakers, I knew they had seen enough. Stacy was staggering to find a place to sit and Tina was hiding her eyes. Paula dropped back into her chair with a horrified look on her face. I closed the laptop, shutting off the video. I dropped the laptop back in my briefcase and fell into the chair.

Nobody spoke for a few minutes. “She tried to tell me last week,” I said in calmer voice, trying to control my own emotions, but I couldn’t stop the tears, “but I was too dumb to understand what she was saying. She told me, ‘she was still being feminized by her new keepers’, but we were doing it with tenderness instead of brutality, so she didn’t mind it. That should have set off alarms in me, but it didn’t. I couldn’t hide the fact that I found her attractive, so she magnified that because she thought it was what I wanted. For the last week and half he or she, hell, I don’t know, has been trying to be as girly as possible, too much so, because that was what we were expecting, and she was getting a lot of positive reinforcement for that behavior.”

Tina was as white as a ghost, with tears in her eyes, “Are you saying she was acting?”

“Yes and no,” I responded. “She was surviving, doing the same thing she has done for the past three years. She was bending to the will of the people around her. Those people that had her screwed her up so bad she has no idea what is the real ‘her’ is, and what the image is she is supposed to have.”

“But,” Stacy spoke for the first time, “I thought he wanted to be a girl.”

“Maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t.” I replied, “You saw her as a girl and you started treating her as one. She responded to that because that is how she felt she needed to be to survive.”

We all sat quietly for a few minutes, lost in our own thoughts.

“Dr. Reinfelt,” I spoke, “I am going to make a recommendation to my superiors, and that recommendation has nothing to do with your abilities or your background. I plan to request some new doctors be assigned to this case, preferably ones with experience in dealing with POWs. This isn’t a case of gender change. This isn’t my brother deciding to be a girl, this is torture and brainwashing, and we don’t know how to deal with it.”

Paula did not speak, nor did she look at me. She just nodded her head. I gathered up my briefcase and left.

I returned to the office and called Mike Holiday to give him an update on the situation. We were going to need more experienced help than we had. In my opinion, anyway, Stephanie’s case was well beyond our ability to handle locally. We needed people experienced in handling severe emotional trauma. Mike told me he would contact Washington and get back to me as soon as he could. The rest of the time, I just sat there and stared at the wall.

A few hours later Tina returned to the office. She closed the door to the office as she entered, and then wrapped her arms around my neck. As she hugged me I could feel her breathing shudder, and knew she was fighting tears.

“You okay, partner?” I asked after she returned to her desk.

Tina sighed, “Probably the same as you, if I were to guess. I am sorry I doubted you, Dan.”

I half smiled, “No, I deserved the doubt for reasons that you know, and I am pretty sure this whole mess is my fault.”

“And how did you make that leap?”

“The first day that I met with her after the hypnosis session, when she seemed to be in the most control of herself, I challenged her. She took that challenge as negative feedback, and she had been programmed to seek positive feedback. So I broke her down that day and made her find a different path so I would like her. Because I was biased when I started the case, drove the three of you into ‘protective’ mode. The three of you treated her like a girl, so that is what she pushed for because she got positive feedback for it. She was extremely beautiful in my eyes and she got positive reinforcement for that.”

I could feel the tears starting to form in my eyes again. “None of us, including Paula, understood just how vulnerable she is and we were just manipulating her.”

Tina sat there for a minute looking at me. “You like her don’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said, you like HER.”

I thought for a second, “Yeah, Tina, I do, but with some reservations.”

“What reservations?”

I smiled, “I will wait to answer that if she ever figures out if she is a ‘she’ or a ‘he’.”

Friday, September 19, 2008
First thing this morning I received a call from Mike. After reviewing the case file, the Washington office has decided to move Stephanie to Mount Elizabeth’s Psychiatric Hospital in Washington D.C., where they have the staff and resources to handle this case. Protection will be provided for her in Washington, and my team can return to their original assignments. Mary packed up and started her drive home this morning. Stacy would be staying until tomorrow before returning to Phoenix.

A chartered flight will be arriving in Tucson at noon today to pick up Stephanie. Tina and I went to the hospital to escort her to the airport. When I entered Stephanie’s room, she was just lying in bed, looking at the walls.

I got a weak smile when she saw me. “Hi, Dan.”

“Hi, how are you doing?”

“Not so good, I don’t think.”

“We are going to try to get you better. We are sending you to another hospital where they have experts in the things that happened to you.”

Stephanie got a worried look, “It is far away?”

“Yes, you are going to Washington D.C. Tina and I will be taking you to the airport soon.”

Stephanie just looked at her hands, “Am I going to see you again?”

“I hope so, but that will really be up to you, whatever you decide.”

The door to the room opened and an orderly came in with a wheelchair. The orderly pushed the wheelchair out to the car, and helped Stephanie get into the backseat where Tina was waiting. Tina and Stephanie hugged while I got in the front seat and Stacy drove us to the airport. The charter jet was waiting our arrival; a steward brought a wheelchair to the car. Stephanie hugged Tina and Stacy.

Stephanie looked up at me, “Do you think you can handle giving me a hug?”

I didn’t answer, I just hugged her. “I am going to miss you,” she whispered in my ear. I kissed her cheek.

The steward backed the wheelchair up the ramp and Stephanie waved to us. The door closed and the jet started moving. I stood there and watched it until I could no longer see it.

Friday, October 3, 2008
During the weekly conference call, the cyber unit reported finding another video. Since I no long had the principal, there was no reason to send it to me. The first video had been traced all over the country and the trail was finally lost after it entered Mexico. Our hope now was that the second video would show something in common with the first and help pinpoint some place of common activity.

Late Friday afternoon found me on the eighth floor of the hospital standing outside of Paula Reinfelt’s office. I knocked as I entered.

“Hi Paula.”

Paula had a surprised look on her face. We had not seen each other since the blow up in her office. “Dan! I am surprised to see you”

“It has been a couple of weeks. You have a few minutes?”

“Sure,” she said moving over to the couch to sit and motioning me to one of the chairs.

I closed the door and sat down. “How have you been, Dan?”

“I’m doing okay, how about you?”

“Fine, any word about Stephanie … or … honestly, I don’t know what to call him/her.”

I smiled, “Stephanie still works for me, and no, I don’t have news. I am no longer on the ‘need to know’ list, so I don’t hear anything. If the guys in Washington get a nugget of information from her it is in the weekly call, but no updates on her status.”

“I am sorry to hear that. What can I do for you?”

“Paula, I am here for personal reasons, so if you don’t want to talk to me, I will understand.”

“No, not a problem, please go ahead.”

“Well, it’s kind of a tough subject for me, but I would like to ask some questions about your … umm … “

“My change?” Paula smiled.

“Yeah.”

Paula thought for a second, “Is this about me, about your brother or about Stephanie?”

“All.”

“Okay, go ahead.”

“Why did you do it?”

Paula Chuckled, “You know, Dan, ‘girls’ like me have been trying for years to come up with the words to explain to ‘guys’ like you why we did what we did. I have given that a lot of thought over the last couple of weeks and have come to the conclusion that there is no way to explain it.”

“I am not sure I follow you.”

“I can tell you that I knew I was a girl since I was six years old, but that has no meaning to you, because you don’t know what that feeling is, you have never experienced it. It is like trying to explain to a blind person what the color red is. I just think it is something that can’t be done.”

“So, how are we supposed to understand it, to deal with it?”

“Understand it? I don’t think you can. Dealing with it? That is just called acceptance. You had no trouble dealing with me before you knew I was TS, and I am still the same person, now that you do know. My intellect does not decrease, my skills are the same and so is my capacity for love. Brenda is the same person as Ben was, just a different outer wrapping. Her becoming a woman does not, in any way, change the way she feels for you.”

“I don’t know Paula, that just seems like such a big hurdle, and I don’t know why it is. I think I understand what you are saying, but getting my mind wrapped around it is hard.”

“That is because you are looking for answers, Dan. There are no answers, there simply accepting someone for who they are and who they want to be.”

I thought about what she was saying, and then stood, “Thanks Paula, you have given me something to think about.”

Paula stood as well, “Any time, Dan. Come back again if you want to talk.”

Saturday, October 11, 2008
It is early evening and I am parked in the drive way of a single story ranch style house on the outskirts on Phoenix. The case has pretty much gone cold. Washington is still working, tracing the second video but so far they have come up with over one thousand common crossing points, mostly hacked home servers, with no new leads, Tina and I have gone back to working our old case load.

I still have no word on Stephanie. I even asked Mike to ask for me. That took a little explaining. Tonight I am attempting to break down another wall, as I walk to the front door and ring the bell.

The porch light came on and the door opened, “Hi Brenda.”

“Well, my goodness, you actually called me by name,” my brother or now, Sister smiled.

“I have been practicing for last two hours, so give me a break.” I returned the smile.

“Come on in, little brother.”

I had not seen her in three years and was quite surprised on how good she looked. At just under six foot tall and 150 pounds, she didn’t look too bad. More masculine in appearance than Stephanie or Paula, but not too bad.

“How you been?” I asked, sitting down.

“I am better now; I get to see you again.”

I smiled, “Sorry about that. I took me awhile to come to terms with myself.”

“I understand there may be another young lady responsible for some of that.”

I gave her a puzzled look.

“Oh, come on, little brother, if you can’t figure out that communication channel, you’re not as smart as I thought you were. Tina tells Mike, Mike tells mom and Mom tells me.”

I grin, “I should have known, no such thing as secrets.”

We were both quiet for a moment, both trying to decide how to proceed.

“Do you want to ask me the big question?” Brenda asked.

“What big question?”

“Why?”

“No. I have a friend that told me I would never understand the answer anyway, so I just need to learn to accept it. So that is the way I am trying to approach it is as long as you are happy.”

“I am doing well, Dan. I am happy with my life and who I am. I even have a new girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” That puzzled me.” But I thought you were … “

Brenda laughed, “I am not gay, I like girls, and I like being a girl.”

I couldn’t help but to start laughing “I don’t want to know! I don’t want to know! I am confused enough!”

It took a moment for us both to stop laughing.

“Brenda, this is going to take me some time to get used to, so please don’t expect a sudden change in me. A lot of things have opened my eyes in the last few weeks, but give me some time.”

“No problem, little brother, as long as you remember we are still family.”

“That is the part I will never forget.”

“So,” Brenda asked, “Did you really like her?”

I thought for a moment, “I don’t know. I was only around her for a few weeks, and I really didn’t know her, not the real her. But, I will be honest, if any of what I saw was real, and then yeah, I liked her. But, I don’t know what was real and what wasn’t, and I’m fairly certain she didn’t, and I may never know.”

The Princess of the Desert

By Melodie Thomas

Edited by Holly Hart

Chapter 6

Sunday, February 1, 2009
The weekly conference calls on the trafficking cases have continued regardless of the lack of new information coming to light. Occasionally a new something will be added from Washington from a source that is described as ‘victim memory’ but those memories have not added much value so far.

This morning, I was sitting in my home office catching up on personal emails, bills and other various activities that accumulate over the week. Since last October, I have maintained fairly consistent email correspondence with my sister. Yes, it is still a challenge for me to write or say that. However, I have enjoyed having her back in my life, and many things in our relationship have not changed, regardless of her change.

I was surprised to find an email from my boss, Mike Holiday, in my personal account inbox. The email contained four words ‘This is for you’ along with an embedded message. I clicked open the embedded message.

<>

Dear Dan

I pretty much had to throw a fit to before I was allowed to send this email, and finally needed the help of your boss, Mike. I have been told that you will not be able to write back to me and that is okay. I have been thinking about you, and I wanted to let you know that I am doing fine. The doctors say I am improving, and I feel that I am as well. This has not been an easy process for me but I am finding every day easier to deal with.

Yes, I am still Stephanie, and I am learning more and more about what that means. No, that does not mean I have made any final decisions. As the doctors here tell me, we have bigger issues to solve then what my gender is. I think I can say I am actually starting to get comfortable in my own skin and just being me. I hope you are doing well and please say ‘Hi’ to Tina for me. I told you when I left that I would miss you and I do. Please take care of yourself.

Stephanie

I leaned back in my chair with a smile. Glancing to my right I saw Stephanie’s picture, still sitting on my desk.

Friday, February 20, 2009
The trafficking case has taken a sudden turn over the last 3 weeks, with Washington getting positive identification on two more videos. The tracing of these videos lead to a common IP address in Arizona that was also used by the two previous videos. The crossing point for all of the videos was a spot in the middle of nowhere about 20 miles west of Swift Trail Junction, or about 60 miles east of Tucson. Aerial reconnaissance revealed a remote ranch nestled against national forest land. Review of the reconnaissance photos showed a private airstrip, a house with two large satellite dishes and various outbuildings. The pictures also showed there had been no active ranching or farming in the area for quite a while.

Public records showed the property is owned by a corporation called Seltex Incorporated, chartered out of California. Research showed that another corporation called Earth Mining, which is owned by Global Resources, which is owned Mei Tan Inc. in Thailand, owns Seltex. The ownership records continue from there, with dummy corporations scattered around five countries. The accountants working the problem claimed it could take years to finally sort out who wrote the check to buy the place in Arizona.

The video trail, along with the financial trail and the circumstantial evidence from the photographs was enough for a Federal Judge in Arizona to issue a search warrant. Because of the violent nature of the organization we were looking for, one of the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Teams and the Pima county SWAT unit would serve the search warrant. Ten Arizona State Police officers and fifteen Pima county Sheriff’s Deputies, along with a half a dozen FBI agents would support the tactical groups. The operation commander would be Mike Holiday.

Tina and I took seats against the wall in one of the conference rooms at City Hall where a meeting would be held with the team leaders prior to serving the warrant. Mike Holiday was there along with Gus Davis, the Pima county Sheriff and Bob Mitchell, Arizona State Police. We were waiting the arrival of Carson Billings, the HRT commander and Joe Martinez, Pima county SWAT leader.

“Hi guys!” Looking up, I saw Paula Reinfelt walk in.

“Hi, Paula,” Tina relied, “Have a seat.”

Just as Paula sat down, Billings and Martinez entered the room and took seats at the table.

“Okay, everyone,” Mike Holiday spoke up. “Let’s do a quick review of the plan so we can get moving.”

A projector sitting on the table was turned on, displaying a map of the target area on the wall behind Mike. The map was marked with the location of the target, as well as the roads in the area. The difficulty would come in gaining access to the property without alerting the occupants. There was only a single access road to the house, which was about 2 miles from the nearest public road. If they had any kind of warning systems set up on the road, they would know we were coming long before we got there.

“We are going to serve the warrant tomorrow morning at 5:45am, and I want to do a final review of the plan so everyone is clear.” Mike announced to the room.

“Because of the remoteness of the compound, the HRT and SWAT units are planning to use helicopters for insertion, as this would give them the fastest deployment with the maximum level of surprise. The helicopters will immediately take off again and monitor for any attempted escape through the mountains or across road-less areas. The Arizona State Police will set up road blocks two miles in both directions from the access road to the property. The sheriff’s deputies, along with the FBI, will be waiting on the main road until an ‘all clear’ signal is sent from the HRT commander. Once the all clear signal is received, the support group will drive to the property and assist with any arrests, property search, and questioning of suspects. Because we are expecting the possibility of finding more victims, two medical evacuation helicopters have been borrowed from the Arizona National Guard and will be staged 10 miles from the suspect property.”

After the briefing, we broke up into smaller groups to work on the transportation logistics of getting to the site. Over twenty cars that would be involved, and we didn’t want to look like a parade driving out there. Many of the State Police and Sheriffs cars were moved into random positions in the area during the day today. Tina and I would be taking our car, and Paula would be riding with us. Our plan was to be at the staging site at 4am and take turns napping in the car during the drive and the wait after we arrived.

The concept of taking naps was good, but all three of us were so keyed up that a concept is all it turned out to be. As the digital readout on the dash clock showed 5:35am, we were sitting in the car, fourth in line, sipping on hot coffee and watching the clock.

“I wish we would hear something about Stephanie.” Paula commented from the backseat.

“Dan got an email from her a few weeks ago.” Tina responded.

“Really? Dan, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I haven’t seen you in the last three weeks, Paula.”

“Well, what did it say?”

“She basically just wanted to get word out to us that she was improving. They won’t let me write back to her for some reason.”

“Probably, trying to control outside influences.” Paula sighed.

The radio on the dash sparked to life, “All units, all units, operational engagement in 5 minutes.”

All conversation stopped as we watched the clock and listened for the radio. The announcement on the radio told us the engagement started at 5:46am and ended at 5:54am. The compound was empty.

The property was completely vacant. The search teams spent the day scouring every inch of all the building and walking a grid around the outside, looking for any evidence of the previous inhabitants. In the basement of the main house, we found five very small rooms that contained four 2X4 framed beds. These rooms seemed to match the descriptions that we previously got from Stephanie. One of the bedrooms on the main floor appeared to have been used as a computer or television center, as there were many cables coming through the walls that were connected to the satellite dishes on the roof. All of the cables have been cut at the wall, like whoever was moving out was in too big of a hurry to unhook things.

There were three main outbuildings on the property, and all three had been stripped clean, like the main house. There was a room in one of the outbuildings that also had a large number of cables feeding it that had also been cut off at the wall. That room had the definite feel of a ‘stage’ to it, but that was still an assumption, as there was no evidence left to prove it. The circumstantial evidence we found indicated we were in the right place, but too late to meet the occupants. The entire property was marked off as a crime scene, the Sheriff’s department took the role of keeping guards posted, and the rest of us went home.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009
The crime scene investigation units from the FBI and the State of Arizona spent two full days collecting every piece of information from the property after the failed raid. In the Monday afternoon conference call, the supervisors of the crime scene teams reported that they had collected well over one thousand individual fingerprints and found over two hundred traces of human fluids between all of the buildings. Some of the critical areas of interest, the ‘rooms’ in the basement and ‘stage’ in the outbuilding were reported to have been contaminated with large amounts of bleach. Efforts were ongoing in a number of labs to identify the owners of the finger prints, as well as attempting any DNA extraction from the remaining fluids.

The FBI Profilers reported a theory in this week’s conference call. When looking back on the locations of the previous body finds, all of the bodies had been scattered all over the world with the exception of Stephanie’s. The think tank was now putting forth a discussion that it is possible that Stephanie’s case was the result of a mistake on someone’s part that needed to be dealt with quickly, resulting in her being dumped within the same state as Robert Mellon. The organization had apparently recognized this was a mistake and would result in a focused search by authorities. Basically, they knew we would figure it out eventually, so they had packed up and moved long before we got there.

Tuesday afternoon I was sitting at my desk catching up some paper work when the phone rang.

“McNeil.”

“Hope you have a clean shirt, and your bathrooms are clean. You have company coming.”

“Hi Mike, I am doing well, how are you? What do you mean?”

“The folks in Washington want to have another look at the compound with someone that has been there. They are sending Stephanie back to you for a couple of days.”

I instantly felt butterflies in my stomach and minor shaking in my hand. “Come again?”

“She will be arriving in Tucson tomorrow afternoon, and will be accompanied by two of her doctors, Vivian and Ivan Vasnev.”

“Okay, what does this have to do with my bathrooms?”

“Well,” Mike chuckled, “that is where I am asking for a favor. We are trying to do this on the quiet and would prefer not to deal with hotels and things like that. I would like for you to put them up at your place.”

“My place?”

“We are not sending a protective detail, as it would draw too much attention. You and Tina can cover that. Your place is out of town, private, and fairly large. The doctors are husband and wife, and will only need one room. They will spend two nights. You pick them up at the airport and take them to your place. Next day, tour the compound and then return them to the airport for the flight back. Can you make that work?”

“I guess I can, Mike. Sorry if I acted surprised, but this is kind of out of left field.”

“I understand and appreciate it. Besides, I figured you would not mind seeing Atkins again. Give me a call if there are issues.”

“Okay, will do. I will need to call Sheriff Davis and let him know we will be on the site.”

“Okay, but let’s try to keep it as quite as we can.”

Mike was right about one thing, my place would be perfect for this. I own a ten acre ranch just outside of town and the house sits in the middle of the acreage. I have four bedrooms and the neighbors are far enough away we cannot see what each other are doing. Tina was out working some leads on another case, so I gave her a call and briefed her on what was happening the next afternoon. I then called Davis and let him know what was going on.

With the calls finished, I needed to head home to get some things ready for the visit. I am not a bad housekeeper but, come on, I am a guy.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009
I hate starting my days off being pissed off at the world, but that is how today started. Actually, the day started with nerves and excitement of seeing Stephanie again, but quickly changed when I opened the morning newspaper. In big, black, bold letters the headlines read.

Reading the article, the plan was to have the Mayor meet Stephanie at the airport and offer her the ‘Key to the City’ in front of a gang of reporters and television cameras. Mayor Harlem Bridgler had been pretty upset with me six months ago when we shipped Stephanie to Washington without consulting him and allowing him to get his photo op. It appeared he was not going to let that happen twice.

I called Mike and listened to him scream in my ear for five to ten minutes. The message was really clear that I was not to allow, Stephanie to get on that stage or in front of those cameras under any circumstances, and he didn’t care if I had to start shooting people to get the point across. Okay, that last part was temper flowing, but I understood what he meant. I called Tina. We discussed our options and came up with a plan.

I drove out to the airport alone, went through vehicle security and on to the tarmac where the plane was scheduled to stop. There must have been fifty reporters and four or five television cameras already set up around a make shift stage. I turned the car around so it was pointed at the exit, standard procedure, then got out and waited. A few minutes later, the Mayor’s car arrived and parked just behind the stand. The Mayor got out of the car and waved to the reporters and then walked in my direction.

“Good afternoon, Agent McNeil. Such a beautiful day,” Bridgler said with a large smile.

“Good afternoon, Sir. I really don’t think this is a good plan.”

“Oh nonsense, Agent McNeil, the girl deserves her spot in the sun, don’t you think?” Mayor Bridgler did not wait for my answer as he turned back towards the reporters.

Ten minutes later the white Lear Jet with an American flag on the tail touched down and started its landing rollout. At the end of the runway, the jet turned onto the taxiway and started moving towards us. About 500 yards before the jet reached our location; it suddenly stopped as a black SUV raced out from behind a building and approached the jet. The jet door opened and the stairway was lowered as the SUV pulled to as stop at the base of the stairs. Three people were hustled down the stairs and into the waiting SUV. As soon as the door closed on the SUV, it started moving, and I jumped into my car.

I could hear people yelling from the stage as I pulled into the gate leaving the tarmac and stopped. Reporters were running in all directions trying to get to the SUV, which had used a different exit to leave the Tarmac. The mayor’s car was right behind me, a constant blast coming from its horn. I was having a hearing problem at that time and did not realize someone else wanted through the gate.

It took over a half hour before the Mayor stopped screaming at me that he was going to have my job, and then screaming at Mike on the phone that he would have Mike’s job, too. I don’t think the Mayor is adding me to his Christmas list. I drove back through town to the FBI office and called Tina. They had made a clean getaway and were currently at my house. She had called the airport, and their airport courier service would deliver my guest’s luggage to the FBI office in a couple of hours. I stayed in the office until their luggage was delivered, taking it home with me.

As I entered my house from the garage I saw Stephanie sitting out on the patio talking to Tina. I stopped for a minute just to look at her. Her hair was different, shorter, but fashionably styled and about shoulder length. She was wearing a light turtle neck sweater and blue jeans. She looked like the ‘girl next door’. As I stood there and watched her I heard someone clear their throat, turning to find an older couple sitting in my living room. The man looked to be in his late 60’s or early 70’s, gray hair and gray moustache. The lady appeared to be early 60’s with short gray hair styled on top of her head.

“Agent McNeil,” the man spoke, “I am Doctor Ivan Vasnev and this is my wife, Doctor Vivian Vasnev.”

I stepped to them as they stood to shake hands. I noticed that Ivan was using a cane to support himself.

“I did not see you using the cane to get out of the plane Doctor, you seemed pretty agile.”

“I think gravity was a great assistance in exiting the plane,” Ivan chuckled, “but my landing in the car was anything but graceful.”

“Agent McNeil,” Vivian spoke for the first time, “we were wondering if we could have a minute of your time before you meet with your friend out there?”

“Certainly,” I answered, “Let’s go to my office.”

I led them into my home office and closed the door. Ivan lowered himself into one of my chairs, while Vivian walked to the windows to look out. As she turned away from the windows, she spotted the pictures of Stephanie that were on my desk. She smiled.

“How is she?” I spoke before either had a chance too.

Vivian walked over to my desk and picked up one of Stephanie’s pictures. “She is better, but a long way from good. These are nice pictures. May I call you Dan?”

I nodded.

“We have seen the techniques that were used on your friend before,” Vivian continued, “and we have had fairly good success reversing them over time.”

“What techniques?” I asked.

“That is something we would prefer not to discuss, Dan.” Ivan spoke up, “Suffice it to say that the people using these techniques have been trained somewhere on their use, most likely a military background. Using the proper combination of hallucinogenic drugs, combined with physical torture you can turn the most hardened warrior into a mindless servant that will do anything you ask without regard to their own safety.”

“But,” Vivian stepped in, “What we really want to talk to you about is her,” turning one of Stephanie’s pictures to face me.

“As you can see,” Ivan took over. These guys are a hell of a tag team. “Stephanie still identifies as a girl. To be honest, we have spent little to no time addressing the gender issue with her. We have had much bigger issues to deal with. We will get to the gender question eventually, but not now.”

“Stephanie,” Vivian again, “seems to have a strong, how do I say, fascination with you. That fascination could be romantic or it could be platonic, we don’t know for sure. Based on your collection, I would say the feelings are probably mutual to some degree.”

“Okay, I don’t know where you are going here.” I was starting to feel pretty nervous.

Ivan smiled, “It is nothing for you to worry about, young man. We are not going to ask you to do anything. We just want to make sure you understand that she is still very fragile and should be handled with much care. We want you to act or react as you feel or see fit. But understand that her frailty will magnify any signals you send her. If you pull away, it will hurt her deeply, and that is a reaction we don’t want. If you pull her to you, that may influence any future decisions she needs to make, which is another reaction we don’t want.

“So, what am I supposed to do?” ‘Talk about being confused.’

Vivian laughed, “We kind of dumped that one on you, didn’t we. Just be her friend, Dan, just be her friend. If you have weaker or stronger emotions, hide them for a while for us. Let’s give her a chance to decide for herself where she wants to go.”

I just stood there nodding my head. I didn’t have a clue what say.

“Now, young man,” Ivan said, standing, “since we have totally confused you, let’s go see our girl. She has been climbing the walls to see you since that plane took off.”

We left my office and went out on the patio. As soon as Stephanie saw me she jumped to her feet with that same smile I remember. She acted like she was going to run to me, and then stopped, like she didn’t know what to do. I opened my arms and that was all it took.

Later in the evening Stephanie and I were sitting out on my patio. Tina had gone home and the Vasnev’s had retired for the evening. It was the first time we had been alone since the day I’d taken the video to her apartment.

“Steph,” I started, “How are you really doing?”

Stephanie gave a slight smile. “I think I am getting better, a little anyway. I can now sleep for about four hours without needing drugs, which I could not do six months ago. The demons coming out from under my bed seem a little smaller, and sometimes I can even convince myself they are not real. The bed itself does not scare me as badly anymore; sometimes I can even sleep on it. I know how sick I am, which, is something new for me too.”

“Your doctors seem like good people.”

“They are good to me. They spend a lot of time talking to me. They seem to be able to focus me on what I really need to worry about, and not letting me get so wrapped up in everything that I become overwhelmed.”

We were quiet for a minute. “So,” Stephanie started, “Did they give you the lecture about how fragile I am, and how you need to be careful how you act around me?”

“How did you know about that?” a little surprised.

Stephanie smiled, “Because I am not stupid, and when I can think for myself I can figure a few things out. I know they are worried about how I feel about you.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t ask this question, but …”

“I like you Dan. I am attracted to you, plain and simple. However, there is a huge problem with that. Before all of this happened, I had never felt an attraction towards any man. Now, I feel a very strong attraction for you. So is that attraction really me, or a residual of the programming I was subjected to? I don’t know the answer to that, and until I do know that answer, I can’t let it go any further.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just sat there, watching her.

“Besides, you would never want me, and I know that too.”

“Why do you say that?”

Stephanie laughed, “Dan, you are so straight you make an arrow jealous. The only way you would want a woman like me is if I were a complete and full woman, and that is a decision that I am a long, long way from making. I won’t lie to you, there are days I wish I were a full woman, and there are days I wish I could go back to who I was. I don’t know the answer right now.”

I just reached my left and over and took her right hand. Stephanie slid her fingers between mine and we just sat there and watched the stars.

Thursday, February 26, 2009
Tina brought one of the company SUVs to pick everyone up early this morning for the drive to the compound. The Vasnevs want to return to Washington as soon as possible, so the flight has been rescheduled for this evening, as soon as we get back from the compound.

Last night felt pretty short to me as I had a hard time sleeping after my conversation with Stephanie. She did seem like a different person now, and that was good. I sensed the same level of intellect coming back that I had seen after the first hypnosis session.

The drive to the compound took two hours, and the conversation during the trip was light and various. As we entered the access road to the house, I could sense Stephanie becoming a little anxious. Pulling up to the main house, Stephanie was studying everything and did not seem bothered by being here.

Soon she was standing on the front porch waiting for us to go in. “You doing okay?” I asked her.

“I am fine. If this is the place, I was never on the outside without a hood on, so none of this looks familiar to me.”

As we had discussed during the drive, I was going to start off touring Stephanie through areas that she had described to me in various memories. We started by going into the basement to look at the little rooms. As soon as we started down the stairs, Stephanie wrapped her arms around my left arm and held on tight.

“Still doing okay?” I asked

“No, I am feeling this, I have been here,” she replied

“Do you want to stop?”

“No, let’s keep going.”

As soon as we reached the bottom and entered the area with all of the small rooms, Stephanie suddenly turned into me and buried her face in my chest.

“This is it, this is it. This is where I was kept.” I could feel her start shaking, “Dan, I can’t be here, I can’t be here, take me out, please.”

“Okay, okay, stay with me Steph, we’re going up now.” I slowly started walking her up the stairs while keeping her eyes covered.

Once we reached the top of the stairs, her breathing and shaking were more under control but she would not let go of my arm.

“Do you want me to take you back to the car?” I asked her.

“No, no, we need to look around a little more. Just stay close to me, please.”

I glanced at the Vasnevs, who were nodding their agreement that I was doing the right thing. As we toured the rest of the compound, Stephanie started relaxing more. She explained that whenever she was outside of the room, she had usually been drugged, so the rest of the property was either very vague or totally unfamiliar. We did get a pretty strong reaction from her when we entered what we thought was the stage area. Stephanie confirmed the stage was where either the videos were shot or she would be taken to ‘entertain’ a client.

Later in the afternoon we started the drive back to the airport. Stephanie had confirmed that we had the right place and now we just had to see if anything would come from the fingerprints or other trace evidence at the scene.

When we arrived at the airport, the jet was fueled and ready. Stephanie gave Tina a hug while I shook hands with the Vasnevs, asking them to please stay in touch with me. They actually said they would.

Stephanie walked up to me. “I don’t want to say ‘goodbye’, Dan.”

“I know.” I responded.

“No, you don’t. I have to leave, and I know that. But ‘goodbye’ is too final. I will say I will see you later. Dan, I don’t know where my life is going, but I always want to be able to call you my friend.” I could see tears in her eyes.

I pulled her into my arms for a hug. “You don’t have to worry about that. I will always be your friend.”

Saturday February 28, 2009
Mayor Bridgler not only wrote, or had written, an editorial in the newspaper about the federal government exceeding their authority; he also called the governor of the state of Arizona and two Congressman. Since politicians love getting their names in the paper. Both Congressmen immediately came out with press releases that they were going to ask for a review of how the FBI was handling the case. I am not sure where in the political wheel some level of sanity came into the discussion, but someone obviously pointed out that Stephanie was a federal witness in an ongoing federal investigation and the Honorable Mayor Bridgler could just ‘stick it’.

All of the political rambling did not bother me very much. What did was the picture that came out in yesterday’s newspaper. While our plan for keeping Stephanie away from the main body of the press had worked well, it seems someone else with a camera was looking for a different angle. On the front page of the paper were two very clear pictures of Stephanie getting off of the plane and getting into Tina’s SUV. The pictures were taken from the opposite direction that I was in, and appeared to be taken with a very powerful lens.

I also received a call from Paula that she was disappointed that she did not get to see Stephanie while she was here. I explained that this was a very fast trip and why. To try to make it up to her, I offered to buy her dinner and tell her everything I’d learned.

We met at a local restaurant and I explained everything to her that I had learned from the Vasnevs, including the part of their concern with my involvement.

“What did you think of all of that, Dan?” Paula asked me.

I smiled, “All of this stuff has me so confused I don’t know what to think about any of it.”

“How about the part between you and Stephanie?”

“I don’t think there is anything there to worry about right now. I think Stephanie has a pretty good idea of the choices and decisions she still has to make. I am not an expert in any of this, Paula, but I sensed a definite difference in her this time from that last time I saw her.”

“How so?”

“Her looks for one. She is still Stephanie, but she’s tamed it down a long way. She reduced the makeup, lip gloss instead of lipstick. Dress was much more casual. She is still playing the role, but I think she now knows it is a role, and that is a difference.”

“What about your feelings for her?” Paula quizzed.

I laughed, “Everyone tries to get me to answer that question, and I won’t do it. I promised her I would always be her friend, regardless of what direction she chooses to take. But I think she still has a long ways to go, before she is ready to face her own choices.”

The Princess of the Desert

By Melodie Thomas

Edited by Holly Hart

Chapter 7

Monday March 2, 2009]
Both Tina and I were in the office this afternoon for the trafficking case conference call which was scheduled to start in about a half hour. For the past couple of hours, I had been going over the case notes again to make sure we did not miss something, and we had all the gaps filled before the call.

“Tina, play sounding board for me on this.”

Tina turned and looked at me, leaning back in her chair. ”Okay.”

“We have been approaching this whole case on the assumption we have a group of sickos out there that are kidnapping guys and transsexuals and turning them in to movie stars and sex toys for some rich perverts. Right?”

“I think that is pretty good summary.”

“Okay, so I can see a group of sickos having a piece of property, like the one that we found to work from. Makes sense to me. But how did they get the wherewithal to bury the ownership of that property in at least ten international dummy corporations? That would take some pretty sophisticated knowledge, wouldn’t it?”

Tina thought for a moment, “I would think it probably would.”

“Okay, another thing, this has to be an extremely lucrative business to pay for everything that we know about.”

“You mean to get the property and bury it in the dummy corps?”

“Not just that. … Go back to Gibson’s report on Steph.” I pull out a note sheet, “The implants she has are top of the line, they were using pharmaceutical grade hormones, and even the heroin found in her system was considered to be high quality. That stuff was not cut in a Mexican back ally.

“Add to that, walking away and leaving the property. It seems like they have a lot of disposable money.” Tina added.

“Or, someone backing them who does. Another thing that has been bugging me since Steph left last week. Something that Doctor Vasnev said, they were guessing that the people that did this have some kind of military training. So if you throw in military, with large amounts of disposable cash, where does that take you?”

Tina set up in her chair, “Some kind of government or military sanctioned activity?”

“I am glad you said it, and I didn’t, but that is kind of the picture I’m seeing. But, one more thing. If we have a group of highly trained people with that kind of money, why did they leave all of the fingerprints behind at the compound? Why not just burn the place down?”

“They didn’t have time! Someone tipped them off and they had to rush getting out of there. That would also explain why the cables we found were cut at the wall!” Tina was getting excited.

“If that is true, then they have someone on the inside, or someone that is close to our operation that tipped them.” I leaned back in my chair.

“Wow, that is scary. If we take that line of though another step, they were able to quickly move people and equipment, along with other victims to another location without anyone knowing. That means they had another place already set up.”

“According to what we have from Steph, memories of the long plane rides, and we know we have found bodies in 3 different countries, these people can move human cargo between countries without detection. That would take quite an organization with a lot of experience.”

“You going to bring this up in the call?”

“No, right now it is just our speculation. I think we need to write it all down and send it through Mike, see if he wants to run with it. But, there seem to be some big gaps there.”

The weekly conference call started on schedule, but the regular agenda was disrupted immediately by the Washington office. They had new data from ‘victim memory’. I don’t know why they don’t say it was from Stephanie. Okay, maybe everyone doesn’t know it was from Stephanie, but I do. Anyway, the report was that Stephanie had a nightmare after returning from visiting the compound. Though her nightmares are not unusual, this time she woke with a clear image of a face in her mind. The face of the man she called Miguel, who was the keeper of the victims. The FBI sent a sketch artist to work with Stephanie and were able to get a reasonable picture of the person she remembered. The new sketch is being routed to all law enforcement agencies, airport security offices and border stations. Orders are to apprehend on sight.

All of the finger prints that were collected at the compound are a source of frustration. Though the investigators are still not done with all of them, not a single hit has been found in all of the criminal databases available. Estimates are they are a little over have way through the collected prints and will probably take another two to three weeks to complete.

Tina asked why we are limiting the search to just criminal databases, which resulted in further online debate. Everyone finally agreed that we would try to search further into other databases such as Military, Security Clearances, concealed weapons, etc..

After the call ended, Tina and I spent the rest of the afternoon writing out the details of our brainstorming and getting a report sent to Mike. There seemed to be a lot of questions here that need to be asked and answered.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009
First thing this morning, Tina and I got a call from Mike that he wanted us in Phoenix at 1pm for a meeting. When quizzed further, he just told us there were some people that wanted to talk to us, and nothing further. Since the drive is just a bit over two hours, we planned to leave at 9:30 and have lunch in Phoenix before the meeting.

We badged through security at the main FBI office at ten minutes before the hour and took the elevator up to Mike’s office. Mike’s office was huge by the standards that Tina and I lived with. He had a large desk just to the left of the door, while the balance of the room was taken up with a conference table that would easily seat 12 people. Somewhere over the past year, I had picked up the unconscious habit of glancing at Mike’s desk whenever I entered his office to see if the picture of my mother was still there. It was.

As we entered the office, Mike and two other men were sitting at the conference table. All three stood as we entered.

“Dan, Tina, glad you could make it,” Mike started. “I would like to introduce you to Donald Baker of the Department of Homeland Security, and John Smith.”

We shook hands with both of the men but alarm bells were going off in my head. ‘John Smith? Okay, whatever.’ As we sat down I noticed the document lying on table. It was the report that Tina and I had written and sent to Mike a couple of weeks earlier.

“Agents,” Baker started, “Did you two write this report?” he indicated the document on the table.

“Yes Sir,” I responded. When dealing with people of higher rank that you do not know, the military taught me the best responses are the simplest.

“What prompted you to write such a report?” Baker asked again.

‘I was doing my job’ was the answer in my mind. “We were just trying to document some discrepancies in the case we were working on.”

“Do you have a theory on why these supposed discrepancies exist?” Baker was still asking the questions.

“I’m sorry Sir,” I started, “but I don’t agree with your term ‘supposed’. These discrepancies exist in the case. The people we are chasing seem to have a large amount of money, and don’t seem to have a problem moving people around undetected, even when we thought we were watching.”

“Okay,” Baker smiled, “I am sorry for the use of the term. However, do you have any theories?”

“No Sir,” Tina answered, “We think we are dealing with some kind of well-organized and well-funded group.”

“So, this piece, here, where you think you have a mole?”

“The report says ‘may’ have a mole, Sir.” I answered. I was not liking Mr. Baker very much. “If the assumptions are true about the money and the ability to move people, why did they leave the building behind so we could search it?”

“Because they didn’t have time to destroy it.” Smith spoke for the first time. “Donald, we need to stop the pussy foot’n here and get down to facts.”

Baker leaned back in his chair with a sort of frustrated look on his face.

“Can I call you Dan and Tina?” Smith continued and we both nodded. “Good. My name in not John Smith and I don’t work for Homeland Security, but that is all you need to know right now. I am a paranoid old bastard, and when I see activity such as you are describing, my mind screams terrorist cell.”

My internal alarms were going off at high volume. ‘This guy is a spook’. I felt Tina tense next to me as she probably came to the same conclusion as I did.

“Now,” Smith continued, “Donald here, does not think that is possible, because they refuse to believe that a terrorist cell could be operating in the states without their knowledge over at Homeland. I, on the other hand, think there could be ten or twelve of them at any one time.”

“Why do I get the feeling,” I spoke up, “that you are thinking we are involved in some way?”

Smith smiled, “I don’t, he does,” nodding his head toward Baker, “However, his job is to torment citizens. My job is to kill terrorist. I have been over both of your histories with a fine tooth comb and I see no red flags. I have lived this long trusting my gut, and I will keep doing so.”

“Why are we here?” Tina asked

“Mostly, because I wanted to meet you face to face and see if my alarms stayed silent, which they have. Second, and I have already discussed with Mr. Holiday, I would to establish a liaison with you as you work through the case.”

“Why with us?” I asked. My gut was in knots right now.

“Two reasons. First, you seem to have pulled more issues out of this case than anyone else looking at it, and second, your relationships with Miss Atkins.”

The mention of Stephanie caused me to jump, and my facial expression that was picked up on right away. Mike reached over and put his hand my shoulder.

Smith laughed, “Don’t worry son, we are not going to hurt her. The Vasnevs and I have had a working relationship for a long time. They are good people, and they will take care of her. They were also pretty impressed with both of you, which is another reason I am pulling you in. Mike?”

Mike slide two business cards to us. The cards were plain white with the name ‘John Smith’, and a phone number on them, nothing else.

“Starting today,” Mike said, “I would like you two to work directly with Mr. Smith. You can also communicate to me, and I will communicate with Smith, but it would be better if we can make it equal communications.”

“I am confused,” I spoke, “Why do you need us?”

“Other than the ones I have already mentioned,” Smith answered, “you are cops. Your job is to look into crimes. Nothing unusual there. If the people we are chasing suddenly see you stop looking and my people start looking, they will just go deeper undercover, and we won’t find them. However, if you just keep doing your job, they will be watching your progress … “

“Watching our progress?” Tina interrupted.

Smith smiled, “Oh, I am sure they are. But if they just see you doing your job, then they may not notice that we are looking for them too. Anyway, I have taken enough of your time and you have a plane to catch.”

“A plane?” Tina asked.

Mike spoke up, “Yes, about 6 hours ago the border station at Las Cruces, New Mexico, stopped a Mr. Miguel Garcia attempting to cross the border in to Mexico. Border patrol says he matches the sketch put out two weeks ago. I would like the two of you to fly down there and have a chat with him. You already have tickets on the shuttle flight that leaves in two hours.”

“Gee, I really packed for this trip.” Tina said.

“Sorry, Tina,” Mike said, “you should be home later tonight or first thing in the morning.”

Tina and I stood to leave. As we started out the door I stopped and turned back to the room. “Mr. Smith, this may be kind of a hollow statement, but you won’t like me very much if anything happens to Stephanie. I would just like you to know that.”

Smith just looked at me, “No, son, I don’t think I would.”

Between the shuttle flights and rental cars, it took us just over four hours to reach the detention center in Las Cruces. Mr. Garcia was being held in an ‘interview’ room with a one way mirror. Mr. Garcia appeared to be somewhere in his mid 30’s with black hair and a stocky build, broad shoulders and very muscular arms. His hands were tattooed similar to what we have seen on some Mexican gangs, with the letters ‘L’ ‘O’ ‘V’ ‘E’ on one hand and ‘H’ ‘A’ ‘T’ ‘E’ on the other. We were standing in the observation room talking with Tom Peterson, Investigative Agent with the Border Patrol.

“He has pretty much denied everything, says he doesn’t know why he is being held. Says he was just going to visit his family in Nuevo Casas Grandes. Best we can tell, that is the truth,” Agent Peterson explained.

“Do you have photographs of his tattoos? Tina asked.

“Yes, we take photos of most of the identification marks on people we detain.”

Tina pulled a piece of paper from her notebook and wrote on it. “Can you have them sent to this email address immediately?”

“Sure, no problem.”

Agent Peterson left the room and Tina was on the phone to Mike. She had the pictures sent to the Cyber boys in D.C. We were asking to have the videos checked for any male that may have the same tattoos. I was just standing in the window, watching Mr. Garcia.

Tina got off of the phone. Walking up beside me, Tina said, “Mike is going to put some pressure on them to get us an answer within the next half hour”

“Okay,” I answered, “Let’s go talk to Mr. Garcia.”

We locked our weapons in the vault in the observation room and entered the interview room.

“Mr. Garcia,” I started, “I am Agent McNeil, and this is Agent Warline and we are with the FBI. We would like to talk to you, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure,” Garcia answered, “if it will get me out of here faster. I don’t know why I am here.”

“Well, Mr. Garcia,” Tina answered, “You are here because you look like a picture we have, so we just need to make sure you are not that person.”

“Okay, so how do I prove that?”

“Where have you been in the U.S.?” I asked.

“Had work up in Albuquerque.”

“What kind of work do you do?” I followed.

“I am a painter, been doing some house painting up there.”

“Okay,” I responded, “If you can give the name of your employer or some of the jobs that you did, we can clear this up really fast.”

“Sure, I can do that, if that is all you need.”

I pulled a piece of paper out, with a pen and slide them over to Mr. Garcia. “If you would just write down the information for us we can get you on your way sooner.”

Just then Tina’s cell phone chirped. After looking at her phone, Tina nodded towards the door. We both stood up. “We’ll give you a couple of minutes and be right back.”

As soon as we were outside the room Tina answered her phone. They had a hit on the first video they looked at and were sending the video to us. We followed Agent Peterson to a room with a computer, which he logged into and we waited for the email to arrive. As soon as it did, Agent Peterson launched the video.

I have been angry before, I have even been almost blindingly mad, but I experienced something new when that video came on the screen. There was a girl lying across a low table with her feet handcuffed to two legs, and her arms stretched across the table and handcuffed to the other side. She was being sodomized by a man. We could only see his body and his right hand. The girl’s back was bleeding, which we saw was being caused by solid strokes of a whip. The right hand that we could see clearly had the tattoo of the letters ‘H’ ‘A’ ‘T’ ‘E’. The girl was Stephanie.

I can’t describe the feeling that I was having at that moment. There was truly only one thought in my head. I was going to kill that son of bitch. I pulled my weapon, racked the slide turned and started walking for the door. I don’t know how she got in front of me, but Tina closed the door just before I could get to it.

“Get out of my way, Tina”

“Dan, stop.”

“Get out of my way Tina; I am going kill that bastard.”

“No, calm down. We have him, we can get the rest.”

I kept walking towards her. She put out her hand and pushed on the middle of my chest to stop me. “Dan, please.”

My weapon fell to the floor, I dropped to my knees in front of her, and cried like a baby as she held me.

Two hours later, Miguel Garcia was placed under arrest for so many charges no one wanted type up the report. Not only did the video match his right hand, but he failed to give us a single name of a person that could be contacted to confirm his story. Tina had contacted Mike and told him that we had Garcia and that we needed a different team to do the interrogation of the suspect. I was still sitting in the computer room with my head in my hands with Tina came back in.

“How you doing, partner?” She wrapped her arms around me.

“I’m sorry Tina, I lost it big time.”

“It’s okay, I do understand.”

“I don’t, I don’t understand any of it.”

Wednesday, March 25, 2009
With Miguel Garcia in custody, the wheels of the American legal system started to roll. How a poor immigrant painter, as he was being billed in the papers was able to obtain three of the most expensive defense attorneys in New Mexico has yet to be explained. However, they were doing a great job of billing him up as a poor working man just trying to take care of his family, being persecuted by the American government because he was a migrant.

The defense attorneys were also very quick to point out they were taking the case pro bono, just to avoid letting the government railroad another poor helpless immigrant. The legal jockeying between the defense attorneys and the federal prosecutors went on for weeks. Every piece of evidence submitted by the government was challenged by the defense. The video tape, though considered every disturbing by the defense, was held as not significant evidence that their client was guilty, as they could produce a thousand other people with the same tattoo, and insisted that the eye witness, referred to in the government filings, be produced for a positive identification of Mr. Garcia.

Our mysterious Mr. Smith tried his hand at sending another group of attorneys to argue before the judge that the witness needed to be protected on the grounds of a potential threat to national security. The attorneys for the defense thought that might be a good time to start yelling about a government cover-up. The Judge, though sympathetic to the governments concerns, still ruled that positive identification by the witness would be required before the trial could move forward. However he did rule that the identification could be done in private, to protect the witness. The government fought to allow that identification to be done by pictures but the defense insisted they needed to present during the identification, just to be sure the government did not try to pull a fast one on them.

In the end, the judge ruled that the only way the trial was going to move forward was for the government to bring their witness to Albuquerque to identify the suspect with the defense attorneys present.

With Stephanie needing to come to Albuquerque, both the Vasnevs and Mr. Smith asked that Tina and I be available as her escorts. She was also going to be accompanied by six members of the United States Secret Service who would be used to form a wider security net around her.

Tina and I were parked on the tarmac at Kirtland air force base watching the Lear on final approach. Though I don’t know exactly who Mr. Smith is, he seems to be able to move mountains when he wants to. At least we didn’t have to worry about a media circus this time. The Lear touched down, turned onto the taxiway, and pulled to a stop next to the car. As the engines spooled down, the door was opened and the stairs lowered. The Vasnevs were the first off of the plane with Stephanie behind them. Behind Stephanie, I was surprised to see Mr. Smith also exiting the plane. As soon as Stephanie stepped to the ground she walked straight over to me and wrapped her arms around me. Though surprised, I didn’t mind, because I wanted it too. I saw both of the Vasnevs smile as they got in the SUV.

I will admit it is fun traveling on the government’s credit card, especially if one is a super-secret spook of some kind. We had three adjoining suites on the top floor of a very prestigious hotel in downtown Albuquerque. Stephanie and Tina were to stay in the middle one, while I shared one with the Vasnevs and Mr. Smith took the other one. I guess when you are paying the bills, you get to have your own place. I had just dropped my bag in my room, and returning found Doctor Vivian Vasnev seated in one of the chairs in the living area.

“How is Stephanie doing, Doctor Vasnev?” I asked, taking a seat.

“Oh please, call me Vivian. She is making good progress. How are you doing?”

“I am doing well, thank you.”

“Hmmm,” She studied me, “You had some problems in Las Cruces though?”

“How did you know about that?” I was surprised and shocked.

She smiled, “Oh, we hear things”

I didn’t think there was any point denying what happened, “Yes, it was a bad time.”

“That is understandable,” she replied shaking her head. “Such a dreadful thing you had to see.”

We were quiet for a moment. “Do you mind if I ask, how it made you feel?” Vivian quizzed.

“I wanted to kill him.”

“But why? You have seen other acts of violence. Have you ever felt that before?”

I had to think for a moment. Not about the question, but the reason for the question. “No, Vivian, I don’t think I have ever felt that way before.”

She smiled at me. “Hmmm, you might want to spend some time thinking about why this time was different.”

We had a catered dinner that night in a room across the halls from the suites. Mr. Smith did not want to have Stephanie leave the hotel until we had to go to the courthouse the next day. Conversation around the table was light and entertaining, as our mysterious Mr. Smith seemed to have novels of interesting stories from around the world. I found myself constantly wanting to ask him who he really was, but I was pretty sure would not tell me. Once dinner was over, every one wandered off in separate directions and I found myself sitting on a patio off of the dining room, looking out over the lights of the city. I was lost in thought and enjoying the quiet time when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Hi!” Stephanie slid into the seat next to me.

“Hi, how are you doing?”

“I’m good. I am always better when I am with you.”

That statement was pretty forward and leading somewhere I didn’t think she was ready to go, so I just let it pass.

Stephanie smiled, “Don’t worry Dan, I am feeling the same thing you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“Strongly attached to you, and very confused, just like you feel about me.

I turned and looked at her. “You figured that out how?”

She smiled out into space, “Are you going to deny it?”

I didn’t respond right away. What was I feeling, and what was I wanting? The ground we were entering was very dangerous, and I was not sure what to say or do. I think that is what Vivian was trying to get to earlier.

I turned to look back out over the city, “No, I am not going to deny it.”

“Good.” She reached over and took my hand.

“I am sorry you had to see that video,” Stephanie said a few minutes later.

I had no idea how she knew, but she did. I also was not that surprised. I just gave a long sigh and she squeezed my hand.

We sat out there for about another hour with very little discussion, just enjoying the time and view. Later I walked her back to her room and said goodnight, then went to my room. When I entered the suite, both Ivan and Vivian were in the living area.

“Good evening, young man.” Ivan greeted me.

“Good evening.” I responded as I took a seat.

“So how was your chat with our girl?” Ivan continued.

“We didn’t really do much talking. Mostly just sat and watched the city.”

“She did tell you how she felt though, right?”

“Yes, she did. How do you two know so much about what is going on?”

Ivan just smiled at me. “Were you honest with her?”

I pause for a few moments, “Yes, I was.”

“Good, very good.” Ivan nodded his head.

“So what is going on here? I feel there is an agenda that I don’t understand.”

Both of the Vasnevs rose to their feet. “You will in time, you will in time,” as they left the room.

Thursday, March 26, 2009
Sleep was a challenge for me last night, between thinking about what Stephanie said and what the Vasnevs were leading to made for a lot of thought. We needed to have Stephanie at the court house at 9am so everyone was up and moving pretty early. As with the night before, breakfast was catered to room across from the suites, but everyone could eat at their own pace. When I entered the dining area, Mr. Smith was the only occupant. I grabbed a plate from the buffet line, selected a few items and sat down across from him.

“Good morning, Sir”

“Good morning, son. How are you today?”

“I am well, thank you. However, I do wish I knew what all of the hidden agendas are that seem to be floating around.”

Smith chuckled, “Talking to the Vasnevs can be a real challenge at times. However, I think you need to find a way to do that. I think they can help you clear up a few things a lot better than I can.”

I was about to ask what they could clear up for me when the Vasnevs, Tina and Stephanie entered the room. Everyone gathered around the table for their breakfast and I never got a chance to get back to the topic. As everyone was finding seats I noticed no one was sitting by me, then I noticed that Stephanie had not been seated, and I got the impression everyone was saving the chair next to me for her. The last time I’d met the Vasnevs they were warning me about taking care of how I expressed myself to Steph. Now I got the impression they were almost playing matchmaker.

We arrived at the courthouse ten minutes before the hour and used the police zone in front of the main doors for unloading everyone. Neither Mr. Smith nor the Vasnevs were allowed to accompany Stephanie as she made the identification. They proceeded to the waiting area outside of the courtroom to wait for us. Tina and I took Stephanie down the hall toward the Police identification room. As we entered the hall, two Secret Service agents took up positions in front and in back of us. Stephanie was walking between Tina and me, with me on her left.

We were half way down the hall when two men stepped out into the hall in front of us. The lead Secret Service agent signaled us to stop, at the same time announcing to the men they needed to leave the area.

Both men waved and started to exit through a side door. At the last second both men stopped and pulled handguns from behind their backs. The first shot hit the Secret Service agent that was leading. I immediately grabbed Stephanie and pulled her to me as I turned my back. Gunfire was going off through the hall and Stephanie was screaming, as I tried to move her back up the hall and keep her in front of me. Suddenly I felt like I’d gotten hit in the back with a baseball bat. The force drove me into Stephanie and both of us into the wall. I lost my footing and fell forward, taking Stephanie to the floor with me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see three more agents running up the hall and I heard the sound of automatic weapons fire.

When we hit the floor, I was focused on keeping Stephanie between me and the wall when I again felt the baseball bat hit me in shoulder. Blood sprayed from someplace and splattered on Stephanie. Suddenly hands were grabbing me and pulling me off of Stephanie. I was leaned against the wall as two agents grabbed Stephanie and took off running with her. She was reaching back for me, screaming, and I could see her tears.

Another set of hands grabbed me as I slid sideways down the wall. Then I saw Tina, who was trying to get my coat off of me. I tried to help but couldn’t seem to move my arm. I looked down at my arm and saw my whole left side was covered in blood. I looked back at Tina with the urge to ask what happened, but never got the chance.

Read Readers,

Here is chapter 8 of my story. The next couple of chapters may be delayed for a few days as I am finding a need, and desire, to take some vacation time. I will continue to work on the story, but the work will take a little longer to complete.

MT

The Princess of the Desert

By Melodie Thomas

Edited by Holly Hart

Chapter 8

Friday, March 27, 2009
I have always hated waking up in hotel rooms, always seem to start the day off a little disoriented. However, now I have to admit that waking up in a hotel room is a whole lot nicer than waking up in a hospital. Talk about disoriented. When I first woke up it was dark. I just lay there, trying to figure out what the hell had happened. My left shoulder and arm were all wrapped in bandages but nothing hurt. My right arm seemed to be fine and since nothing hurt, I should be able to get up. I tried to roll up on my right side. I think I got my left shoulder about an inch off of the bed before I realized just how bad of an idea that was, and dropped back down with a groan. After a couple of minutes of letting my body settle back down, I fished around with my right arm, hoping they’d put a nurse call button near me. I was only moving one arm, but by the time I found the call button and pushed it, I felt I like I had just run a marathon. A few minutes later a nurse entered the room.

I don’t want to complain, but one of the most rhetorical questions that I think I have heard, is to walk up to someone in a hospital bed with bullet holes in them and ask, ‘How do you feel?’

The nurse got me some water, checked the IV that was also in my left arm, told me it was 4am and then left me in the dark again. Somewhere after she left I fell asleep again. The next time I opened my eyes, light from outside was coming through the window and someone was sitting in the chair next to me but I couldn’t really see them.

“Good morning,” Tina said, “Good to see those eyes open.”

“What the hell happened?”

“We got hit trying to get to the Police identification room. Three gunmen, all three were taken out. You saved her life, Dan.”

“Is she okay?”

“No, she is worried sick. Just like the rest of us.”

“But not hurt?”

“No, she is not hurt.”

I sighed at the relief that. Stephanie was okay. “Anyone else hurt?”

“One of the Secret Service guy took a hit in the vest, he is okay, just a cracked rib.”

Tina stood and walked up to the bed where I could clearly see her face. Tears were running down both cheeks. “You told me to take care of Stephanie, and I will take care of her, but don’t you scare me like that again.”

Tina picked up my right hand and held it to her cheek.

“How bad am I?” I asked as I rubbed the side of her cheek.

“The doctor will have to explain it, but it looked a lot worse than it turned out. You were in surgery for a couple of hours. They told us last night that you should not have any trouble with recovery. Oh, and your Mom and Brenda are here, too. Mike flew them in last night.”

“Wow, the whole family reunion.”

Sometime later the doctor came in making his rounds. I had been hit 3 times but two of them hit my vest, which saved my life, though they caused a couple broken ribs. The last one was actually a ricochet off the floor which entered at an upward angle, under my arm, on the edge of the vest. According to the doctor, I would have been better off getting shot straight on. When the bullet hit the floor, the ricochet was tumbling, which tore a bigger hole and a gave me a broken shoulder but the bullet didn’t pass through. The surgery was to remove the bullet and pin my shoulder back together. I guess my left arm is out of action for a while. The doctor guessed that they would be ready to release me on Sunday.

After the doctor left, Tina went down to get some breakfast, and I lay back and closed my eyes. I don’t think I went to sleep but suddenly I had this image of the door to my room bursting open and a red eyed banshee flying in. The banshee flew face first into my neck, which caused me to flinch, but I didn’t move, I heard they bite if you move. Instead, I wrapped my arm around her and let her cry.

Stephanie pulled her face out of my neck, but just far enough to see my face. I brought my hand around and used my thumb to wipe her tears. “You know, those would be some pretty blue green eyes if they weren’t so red.”

Stephanie gave me a half laugh and tried to smile. I saw a movement behind her as Brenda came into the room and walked up next to Stephanie. “I take it you two have met?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Brenda gave me a weak smile, “we met, and we decided you make a boring conversation topic. Talking about you took two boxes of tissues.”

Behind Brenda, Mom and Mike came in. Of course I had to answer the ‘how are you feeling’ question a couple more times than I really wanted to, but it was good to see them. Tina came back up later and joined the party, she also told me there were more secret service people in the hallway than she had seen around the president. After a while, Mike whispered something to my mom and she asked Brenda and Steph to go have coffee with her. Brenda almost had to pry Steph away from me, but I knew Mike wanted to talk shop, so I asked Steph to go have coffee and come back in a little while.

“So, tell me Mike,” I said after they left, “How did they get guns in the courthouse?”

“We don’t have a clue. I can tell you that our Mr. Smith is one mad hornet right now. He and the Vasnevs will be up to see you a little later; they wanted to let the family have time first.”

“They got the guns into the courthouse,” a voice came from the door as Mr. Smith walked in, “by paying off two security guards. We know who the guards are and we are looking for them. Once we find them, we will have a little chat. Sorry, Mike, I just found out.”

The thought of having a ‘little chat’ with Mr. Smith sent shivers through me. I don’t think I would want to have one of those chats.

Smith walked to the foot of my bed and looked at me. “Son, I have known a lot of good people in my time. Anyone that will throw his or her body into the line of fire to protect someone else moves right to the top of that list. You ever get tired of the Bureau, you give me a call.”

I gave him a half smile, “Thanks, but I would really like to know what name to call first.”

Smith smiled back, “I may have to think about that at some point.”

“Can someone tell me,” I asked “exactly what went down?”

Mike spoke first, “Tina has already told you about the hit. We are running the ID’s on the bodies but, I think we are going to find they are local talent, street thugs or something like that. The guns appear to be throw a-ways, no serial numbers or prints, beside the shooters.”

“Why,” I asked, “Would three guys corner themselves like that and go up against the Secret Service with just a couple of pistols?”

“I don’t think they knew about the Secret Service detail.” Smith answered, “No one knew I was bringing them with me until the last minute.”

“If it had just been you and Tina on the escort detail, ” Mike added, “ the outcome may have been a whole lot different.”

That was an outcome I didn’t want to think about, so I changed the subject, “How about the identification of Garcia?”

“After the shooting,” Mike stood, “the U.S. attorneys threw a shit fit in front of the judge with huge conspiracy theories about how this whole thing was a setup to kill their witness. They even threw out innuendos that the defense attorneys may have had some involvement because they insisted that Stephanie be brought here. Of course, the defense team totally denies and rejects the claims as ridiculous, but in the end, they consented to just letting us do the identification based on a photographic lineup.

“They took twenty pictures of different men, one of which was Garcia, over to the hotel and laid them out on a table. Stephanie came in the room and picked our man in less than five seconds. The judge accepted the identification and bound Garcia over for trail. The trial date is set three months out.”

“What we are hoping now,” Smith picked up, “Is the lawyers can work out a plea deal if Garcia turns and tells us the story.”

I flinched at that. I still wanted to kill the bastard.

Smith smiled, “I understand, son. If she was my girl I would be the same way. However, we need to look at the bigger picture here. We need to find the core of this cell, and I don’t think Garcia is it. He’s not smart enough.”

As much as I did not like the idea, I understood it. We need to get the people behind this, not just the front men, and if turning Garcia accomplished that, then it was the right decision. Besides, I’d also received an unspoken message from Stephanie while sitting on the patio the other night. If she is strong enough to survive what she went through, then I needed to be strong enough to face it as well.

“Mr. Smith,” I asked, “If Stephanie is still in danger, why is she still here?”

Smith actually laughed aloud. “Because I didn’t bring enough men to get her on that damn plane until she knew you were going to be okay. That one is one hot little pistol, let me tell you.”

Mr. Smith scares me, and I don’t really trust him. I have the feeling that he would be willing to sacrifice anyone one of us if he felt it was necessary to reach his end goal. I really did not like having Stephanie in his control, but I had no idea what to do about it. The conversation went on for another half hour, until I was having trouble keeping my eyes open. Everyone decided to leave and let me get some rest, which I did as soon as the door closed.

I woke sometime later, alone. Lying there, staring at the ceiling I was becoming pretty overwhelmed with all of the complexities going on around me. My relationship with Stephanie, the search for the trafficking organization, the messages I was getting from the Vasnevs, Smith’s involvement in the case, and the relationship between Smith and the Vasnevs. I had no idea where all this was headed and it seemed like a giant whirlpool that kept sucking me in deeper and deeper, and very little of it was within my control.

I didn’t understand all of the agendas that seemed to be going on. I didn’t understand the Vasnevs or what they are trying to do. I got the feeling that not only the Vasnevs, but Smith, were trying to push Steph and me together, and neither one of us was fighting it. Steph seems to change each time I see her, and not bad changes either. She seems more mature and confident. She acts feminine, but not over the top, like she had been. She is the kind of girl I could take home to meet mom, but she is not a girl, and she has already met mom. I wonder how that went?

I had probably studied every spot in that ceiling for about an hour when I heard the door to my room open slowly. I saw a face peek around the door and I raised my right hand in that direction.

“I know you are getting tired of this question,” Stephanie said she entered the room, and walked over to me, “but how are you doing?” She took my hand and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Well,” I responded, “seems like we have done a role reversal here, doesn’t it?”

She smiled at me, “I think we need to stop this. We are both pretty tired of hospitals.”

“Oh, so true!” I responded, rolling my eyes. I studied her face for a moment. “How are you doing?”

“I’m better.” She was looking down at my hand that she was holding with her right, softly stroking the back with her left. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

She sat quietly for a couple of moments then spoke softly. “I have suffered a lot of pain in my life, but I have never felt a pain like what I felt, seeing you on that floor while they were carrying me away, thinking I may never see you again. That was the most brutal pain I have ever felt.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot to duck.” I tried to make her smile.

She did smile, “But it really made me do some soul searching last night. Oh, and I love your sister, by the way.”

“I am not really sure I want to know about that conversation.” I returned her smile.

“I don’t know why I am attracted to you, Dan. Even more, I don’t know why you are attracted to me.” She paused, “Maybe it is some kind of fate. But in that moment, when I saw you on the floor bleeding, in that split second, there was no doubt in my mind what, and who, I wanted to be. Then, realizing that my chance of being that person, may have just passed me by. I have never felt a worse pain in my life.”

“Steph …” I didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t worry, I’m okay. You don’t have to say anything; I know how you feel from your actions, and your eyes. I also know we are both looking at the impossible dream. I just don’t know what to do.”

“We have to find these people, Steph.”

“Yes, we do.” She nodded, “and I have to leave. I don’t want to, but I know I have to.”

“It’s for your own safety.”

“So many people have given so much to me over the past months; I don’t know how I can ever repay any of it, especially you …“

Before Stephanie could finish her thought, the door opened and Vivian Vasnev entered the room.

“Stephanie, “Vivian started, “We need to be going.”

Stephanie nodded her head, bent down and kissed me on the forehead. Moving her mouth to my ear she whispered, “I love you”. Sitting back up straight, “You get better, Dan. I will miss you from the minute I walk out that door.” She gave my hand one more squeeze, then stood and followed Vivian out the door.

The door had not quite closed behind Vivian when it reopened as Ivan Vasnev walked through, using his cane, as a temporary door stop.

“Hello, young man,” he said as he approached the bed, “I guess we will be leaving soon, and I wanted to check on you. How are you doing?”

“I am very confused, Ivan.”

“Ahh, with your feelings for our girl?”

“Well, that is part of the problem; she’s not really a girl, is she?” I asked.

Ivan chuckled. “That is where you are wrong, and she is very much a girl. Perhaps her body does not quite reach the mark, but trust me; she is all girl in here,” he said, pointing to his head.

The puzzled look on my face prompted further laughter from Ivan. “How I know that is not something you need to trouble yourself with right now. You need to focus on getting healthy again, and when we have more time we will talk.”

“However,” Ivan continued has he sat on the edge of the bed, “there is something I would like to leave with you to consider. There is a phenomena in the world known as the rescuer/rescuee relationship. This occurs when two people meet under very traumatic circumstances, and the shared emotions from the circumstances are redirected to each other. These redirected emotions can be very powerful, and very passionate. However, the only common ground in the relationship is the traumatic event. Once the traumatic event is past, there is nothing left for the relationship to survive on, and it fails, painfully. I would like you to ask yourself, how your relationship with Stephanie, would fare under less stressful conditions.”

I was confused. “Then why do I get the feeling that you and your wife are kind of pushing us together if that is a concern?”

Ivan smiled, “Because you are good for her, and she is good for you in many of the same aspects. Follow your heart young man, but make sure your brain is asking your heart where it is going. As we are working to make Stephanie understand, do not hide from your emotions, embrace them, but also make sure you understand them. The heart and the brain must work together to choose the right path, one cannot go without the other.”

I just nodded my head. I was not sure I understood what I had just been told, but I knew I had a lot to think about.

Ivan stood and patted me on the leg, “Take care, young man, I am sure we will be seeing you again soon.”

“Thanks, take care of Stephanie for me, please.”

“That we will do,” as he left the room.

Monday, April 13, 2009
I was released from the hospital on Sunday, as the doctor had predicted. The bullet had hit my left arm first, traveled up my arm into my shoulder. As a result, I had a deep gouge on the inside of my arm, and a hole in my armpit, along with a broken rotator cuff. The arm and shoulder were wrapped in gauze and padding, then my arm was placed in a sling that was strapped around my body to avoid movement of the shoulder. For the first 10 days, the bandages needed changing daily; this meant removing the arm from the sling, and moving it slightly away from my body. This activity was excruciatingly painful and changing the dressings was not something I could do myself. To help me through this period, Brenda took 2 weeks off work and moved to Tucson to, as she said, baby sit her little brother.

Having Brenda around for two weeks was great. Not just for helping me, but we had a lot of time to talk and to get to know each other again. I still have a very hard time having a sister. As I explained to Brenda one evening, I have 28 years of memories of having a brother, and I can’t just plug a girl into those memories. Even though I know they are the same person, connecting the memories to the present day is just not possible for me to accomplish. The interesting part of having her around was some realizations that occurred while watching her for a few days. I would see body language, posture and behaviors that, today, look very feminine, but were also the same mannerisms that I remember Ben doing. These actions hadn’t looked so feminine then, but today they do. Maybe some of the memories are starting to reconcile. We also had many conversations about Stephanie. The biggest difference between Brenda and Steph was that I’ve never known Steph as anything but a girl. I have no memories of her as a boy, so even if my mind knows she is male, all I have ever seen is girl. This may be part of what Ivan was trying to tell me. However, I don’t think I’ve totally understood anything the Vasnevs have told me.

Though I am off on injury leave for six to eight weeks, I still call into the weekly conference calls just to keep up on what is happening on the case. The legal wrangling is still ongoing with Garcia. As the federal lawyers have explained; the defense will not consider any discussion of plea agreements until enough of a case is build that shows a strong possibility of a conviction. Background research on Garcia shows a number of past run-ins with the law, mostly assault charges. Evidence has turned up in the efforts to trace Garcia’s movements in the weeks prior to his arrest, during which he was in fact, in Arizona and in the area of Tucson. There is strong concern that Stephanie’s mental condition will prevent her from being that powerful an eyewitness. The lawyers do not feel they have a choice but to call her, even knowing the defense may destroy her on the stand. Until more evidence can be found against Garcia, Steph is really the only hope for the case.

Garcia is being confined in the maximum-security wing of the county lockup facility in Albuquerque, awaiting trial. There does exist some concern for his safety, considering the attempt on Stephanie. A possibility exists that whatever organization Garcia was working for may attempt to silence him. However, this concern does not seem to bother Garcia, as he shows no interest in talking to our investigators.

I have received no news from, or about Stephanie.

“McNeil, Tucson” I announce as I connect into the conference bridge.

“Hey, Dan, how is the arm?” Mike was already on the line.

“Hasn’t fallen off yet, but some days I wish it would.”

“Okay, this is Wilson in Washington, let’s start the agenda.”

“This is Cally in Labs. I would like to break the agenda. We have hits on two sets of prints from the compound.”

“Okay, Cally, the floor is yours,” responded Wilson.

“First set of prints belongs to Miguel Garcia, and are matched against the set collected for the current arrest. We missed them in the search because all we have is partials. Now that we can compare to a known set, we are 90% matched.” Cally reports.

“Outstanding!” Mike exclaimed, “The lawyers are going to love that.”

“Second set,” Cally continued, “belong to a Ryan Whisler, last known address, Tucson.”

“Whisler!!” Tina cut in, “Whisler is the Mayor’s PR Rep!”

“Tina, go get him!” Mike ordered.

“Warline, Tucson, off.”

Two hours later, Ryan Whisler was in federal custody with a confirmed finger print match to those found at the compound. Whisler was charged with accessory to murder, and accessory to attempted murder. He requested a lawyer immediately.

Thursday, April 16, 2009
This arm is driving me crazy, because all I can do right now is sit back and watch as the case starts to open up.

Federal prosecutors went to work on Whisler right way with offers for plea deals if he would become a witness against Garcia. In this case, it appears Whisler hired a smart lawyer. His lawyer told him his best option was to come clean on his involvement and make a deal with the government. Whisler is not a hardened criminal, and being in the court system was the one place he did not want to be, so he started telling his story.

He claimed to have met Garcia in a bar in Tucson, and over a number of drinks they’d started talking about sexual fantasies. He’d told Garcia one of his fantasies was to have sex with a shemale, and to be able to dominate her. Garcia told Whisler he could set that up for a price. A couple of weeks later, Whisler decided to take Garcia up on his offer. Garcia drove Whisler to the compound, where he was able to fulfill his fantasy. He returned to the compound a second time, but on this second trip Garcia showed him a video tape from his first visit. Garcia told Whisler if he wanted to keep the tape out of the news, then Whisler would owe Garcia a favor once in a while. Those favors included calling Garcia if any police activity was going to occur in the area of the compound.

Whisler said he once asked Garcia where the shemales came from and Garcia told him he did not know. Garcia only knew they were to be run through certain training activities that his boss had instructed him to follow. Garcia told him these girls would follow any instructions they were given and even demonstrated that once. Whisler said that Garcia brought one girl to the room they were in.

Whisler said the girl was crying and struggling against the ropes until Garcia said a word too her. The girl suddenly stopped crying and stood still. Whisler ask Garcia what the word was, and was told that Garcia did not know, it was something he’d heard his boss use. Garcia thought it was Russian or something. Whisler then told the interviewers that Garcia told the girl to go to a wooden stool, put her right foot on it, and then drive a nail through her foot into the stool using a hammer. Whisler commented that he was totally shocked when that was exactly what the girl did without making a sound.

Saturday, May 2, 2009
After almost 5 weeks of wearing my stylish sling, I got introduced to a legal form of torture, called physical therapy. Yesterday, I went for my first session, where a cute 23 year old redhead spent thirty minutes trying to remove my arm from my shoulder. A couple of times, I thought she had accomplished her goal.

It took a couple of weeks of work by the federal prosecutors to convince Mr. Garcia that we had a high probability of a conviction and if he was hoping for any kind of a deal, now was the time to make it. Garcia’s lawyers drew the process out a few more days by negotiating better prison conditions as well as sentencing agreements before they would allow Mr. Garcia to talk. Finally, however, Garcia started talking.

The prosecutors focused first on the video tapes that had been collected, as that was the other main evidence that needed collaboration. Garcia told the prosecutors that the videos were not part of the organization he worked for, that he, Mr. Garcia made those tapes to sell on his own website. Garcia gave the prosecutors the IP address for his website.

Garcia was then questioned about the organization he worked for. Garcia responded that he only worked at that specific compound, and his boss went by the name of Charlie. The lawyers then showed Garcia a still image from the first video tape identified by Stephanie, and Garcia confirmed the man with the red lightning bolt tattoo was Charlie. The lawyers asked if Garcia could describe Charlie well enough for an artist to draw it. Garcia confirmed that he could, and the lawyers stopped the interview at that point to call in the sketch artist. The artist and Garcia spent the rest of the day completing a drawing of Charlie.

I was sitting in my living room waiting for the Advil that I just taken to take the edge off of my throbbing shoulder when my phone rang.

“McNeil.”

“McNeil, Smith, I need your ass in Albuquerque an hour ago. A plane will be touching down in Tucson in one hour. Be on it.”

I started to say something when I realized that Smith had just hung up on me. I sat and looked at the phone for a couple of seconds, trying to make sure what I’d just heard registered. When it did, I stood up and got ready to travel.

On hour later I was watching a familiar Lear Jet taxi into the private parking area for charter flight companies. As the Lear stopped in front of me I noticed the engines were not shutting down but the door was opening and the steps extending. I climbed up the steps and entered the plane. The steps were retracted and the door closing before I was in the aisle way. I was the only passenger on the jet, which started moving again as soon as I sat down.

Two hours later, we were wheels down in Albuquerque and taxiing to a black SUV that appeared to be waiting for me. Once we reached the SUV, the jet’s door was opened and the steps lowered. As I exited the plane the rear door of the SUV opened and I climbed in.

“Sir, Mr. Smith is waiting for you at the crime scene.” The driver said.

“What crime scene?”

“Mr. Smith will explain when we get there, Sir.”

Traffic laws did not seem to be a concern to the driver, as I think we broke every one of them on the way. Within twenty minutes we were pulling up to the front door of the county jail. I could see Mr. Smith standing outside the door, waiting for me.

“Son, how is that shoulder?” Smith asked as I exited the SUV.

“Still hurts, but getting better. What is going on?”

“Good. Let’s walk, I’ll talk.”

Smith started talking as we entered the front door. “This morning our Mr. Garcia was complaining of a toothache. Being the caring society that we are, we let the pervert go to the infirmary to see the dentist before meeting with our team. A dental assistant that has worked here for two months had Garcia in a dental chair, leaned back to examine his tooth. Instead, she pulled out a scalpel and slit his throat all the way to the bone. While Mr. Garcia was bleeding out, our friendly dental assistant sat in the chair next to him, took a 9mm Glock, put it under her chin and blew the top of her head off.”

“Holy shit!” was all I could get out.

“That is an understatement. I hope you have a strong stomach,” Smith said as he led me into the infirmary.

I have a strong stomach, but not that strong. There was blood everywhere, a huge puddle under Garcia and I don’t want to describe what was sitting next to him.

“Christ.” I whispered.

“Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet,” Smith said as he walk up to the dental assistant, who had a towel across her lap. “Your trafficking problem just went nuclear.”

Smith pulled the towel off of the assistant’s lap, and I froze. The dental assistant was a transsexual.

Smith signaled to a couple of other guys who came over. “Lift her up.” he ordered.

As they turned her up on her left side, I think my heart stopped, as the brand ‘Slut7’ came into view.

The Princess of the Desert

By Melodie Thomas

Edited by Holly Hart

Chapter 9

Saturday, May 2, 2009
My mind was totally scrambled by the time we left the crime scene, only fifteen minutes after we arrived. Smith led me back out to the waiting SUV, and we were off to the airport again. The Lear Jet took off only minutes after we boarded, heading to Washington D.C.

The seats in the Lear were arranged with four seats around a fixed table. There were four of these table/chair sets on the jet.

I was seated in one of the forward facing seats, just staring off in to space, when Smith set a bottle of beer in front of me and took a seat opposite. “What do you think?”

I slowly shook my head for a couple of moments, “I am not sure what to think. I am not sure I want to go where my mind is trying to take me.”

“Where is your mind taking you?”

“I want to say, she was programmed somehow to kill Garcia and then eliminate herself.”

“Then your mind is pretty much in the same place as mine. That is what I have been worrying about for some time.

I looked at Smith, “How is that?”

Smith just looked at me for a moment, “Okay, we have been looking over your shoulder since last October, ever since you sent Miss Atkins to Mount Elizabeth.”

“At what point do you plan to explain that to me?” I could feel my anger starting to increase.

“You will get most of it tomorrow from Ivan.” Smith put his bottle on the table, “Look, Dan, we were not sure what was going on either, and we have done nothing to Stephanie but try to help her. So, please, cut me a little slack for not ‘crying wolf’, when all I had was a theory.”

Smith looked at me for a moment. I picked up my bottle of beer and took a sip. “Okay, but I hope you don’t try to keep me in the dark too long.”

Smith smiled, “If I planned to keep you in the dark, I would not have brought you to Albuquerque today. I need your help with this and it is time to put the cards on the table. If what I am suspecting is actually happening, we have a huge problem on our hands.”

“Then, at least, tell me about the Stephanie side of things. How did she tip your hand?”

Smith nodded as he took a drink. “Whenever we bring a field agent home …”

“When you say ‘we’, you mean CIA?” I interrupted.

Smith just smiled and continued, “… we run them through a psychiatric evaluation. We want to make sure all the wiring is correct up here,” pointing to his head. “Over the years a standardized evaluation has been created and is used at all the major psychiatric hospitals in the country.

“When Stephanie arrived at Mount Elizabeth, she was given the standard pre-admission evaluation. The results of that evaluation set off a number of red flags, and those flags landed on my desk. I contacted the Vasnevs, who are on staff at Mount Elizabeth, and asked them to look into it. They reported to me that the flags were real, and we had a potential problem. Before you ask, Ivan will have to explain the flags, because I don’t understand them.” He paused, looking at me.

I nodded my understanding.

“At that point I started looking into your case from behind the scenes. At first, I did not think your case had anything to do with what I was worried about. The type of people that I am looking for would not be publishing porno films; they would not try to attract that much attention. However, after your guys traced those videos back to that place and we saw how it was abandoned, my interest picked up. Honestly, we saw the discrepancies about a week before you did.”

“If you were ahead of us, why pull us in?”

“First, because I didn’t want you getting in my way. Once you started looking in that direction, there was a good chance we would start stepping on each other’s toes. Second, as I have told you, was your relationship with Atkins. We needed her, and the Vasnevs told me we were not going to be able to keep her away from you and still have her be effective. So, bottom line is, we are better off working together.”

“Okay, so what is your theory about what is going on here?” I asked, setting my empty bottle back on the table.

“I think the videos were purely Garcia. I think he found a way to play with the girls left in his charge and make a little money on the side. I think once the FBI started to get on that trail, the organization he was working for moved in and shutdown the Arizona operation. I think Garcia knew he’d screwed up and was trying to skip the country, thinking that would save him. As for the dental assistant, I think I will wait until Ivan explains things to you, as I think it will make more sense then.”

“Now, it seems we only have this ‘Charlie’ as our only open lead. What happen to the two security guards at the courthouse?”

“We have not found them,” Smith stated, “my guess is they are on the bottom of a lake somewhere. This group does not seem to be the kind to leave many loose ends. I agree with you, our focus needs to be on finding out who ‘Charlie’ is. We also need to chase down the identity of our dental assistant, and there are a couple of other things we will talk about tomorrow.”

Darkness had just settled on the city when we arrived in D.C.. Smith had a car waiting. Traffic was pretty heavy for the evening rush, and the drive into town took nearly an hour. The driver pulled into the entry of a very high end hotel and stopped at the front door.

Smith handed me a magnetic key card, “You are in room 2107. Use this key on the elevator, and if you want anything, just charge it to the room. I will pick you up at ten in the morning.”

I got out of the car and closed the door. Smith rolled the window down and smiled. “And try to get some rest tonight. You will need your wits about you tomorrow, ” as he drove off.

I stood there and watched him leave for a second, wondering what that comment was about. Puzzled, I entered the hotel lobby, found the elevators and selected the twenty seventh floor. When the elevator door opened on the twenty seventh floor, I was greeted by a Secret Service agent.

“Good evening, Sir.” The agent said, “Your room is just around the corner to your left.”

“Good evening, and thank you.” I responded as I followed his directions.

As I rounded the corner, there was another agent standing in front of a door labeled 2107. “Good evening, Sir. The door is open.”

I was a little set back by the security level, but I opened the door, entered the room and closed the door behind me. As I entered the living area of the suite, things became much clearer. Sitting on the couch, reading a magazine, was Stephanie. Her hair was pulled back in a soft ponytail. She was wearing a white, almost see through, blouse, brown dress slacks and white three inch sandals. The scene that played through my mind was so perfectly displayed for me, I could not help it.

“Hi, Honey, I’m home!” I announced.

I loved the sound of her laugh as she set her magazine aside, stood and took the ten steps or so to reach me.

She put one arm on each side of my head as she step up to me. “Hi, Dear. How was your day?”

I could not help laughing either, as I instinctively reached my right arm around her waist and pulled her too me.

Looking into those sparkling eyes, I could feel my heart rate increasing. “This is probably not the safest position for you to be in.”

“Why is that?” she responded with a bigger smile.

“Honestly, I have a very strong urge to kiss you right now.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t know if it is the right thing to do.” I said, lacking anything else to say.

“Mr. McNeil, I have already told you I loved you, and I already told you who I wanted to be. Now you need to decide if you can accept me as I am, or if you want to tell me to leave. Either way, it is time for you to get off of that fen…” as I cut the last word off with my lips.

As our lips parted, her eyes had a softness to them I had never seen before. They still sparkled, but there was something else in there.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “That was the choice I hoped you would make.”

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” I whispered back.

“Oh, I am sure,” as our lips met again.

When Stephanie finally let me sit down, like it was all her fault, I realized that I had not eaten all day. We pored through the room service menu, decided on our menu choices and passed them to the Secret Service agent outside the door. When our order arrived we chatted all through dinner about various topics, none of which were related to the case. I told her about Brenda coming to stay with me, and the conversations that Brenda and I’d had. She told me about sessions with Vivian and Ivan and the things she was learning to think about.

Once dinner was over, and the service items pushed out of the room, Steph helped me with some light shoulder exercises. We had just completed the shoulder work, and I was sitting on the couch without my shirt on, Steph sitting behind me, gently rubbing my shoulder and neck., when I asked, “When do you need to go back?” It was almost a mumble, as she was putting me to sleep with the neck rub.

“Go back?”

“Yeah, go back to… I don’t even know where you stay here.”

“I am staying with the Vasnevs, but tonight I am staying here.”

I turned a little too fast. My shoulder did not like that movement, and a grimace crossed my face.

“Easy!” She said with a concerned look.

“Ouch!, What do you mean you are staying here?”

She had a worried look in her eyes, “There are two bedrooms here and I plan to stay in the other one.”

“I am sorry,” I said as I ran my hand through her hair, “I didn’t mean to upset you; I was just surprised is all.”

“Do you mind if I stay in the other room?” Her eyes were downcast.

I lifted her chin, and lightly kissed her lips. “I am sorry if I misunderstood. Steph, I never want to hurt you in any way. That includes moving ‘us’ along too fast. I will always worry about that with you. Sorry, I can’t help myself. No, I don’t mind if you stay. I would like that.”

Stephanie smiled and returned my kiss. “I know, and I don’t want to move you past your comfort zone too fast. Brenda said that I need to be slow.”

“Brenda? Oh, God, I am being double teamed.” I laughed.

Lying in bed and studying the dark ceiling, I found it interesting that the horrors of the day had vanished the instant that Stephanie stepped in to my arms, or should I say, arm. Yes, I actually kissed someone today that was not born a woman, but my mind only saw a woman in the person I kissed. I hope that I didn’t make a mistake. As Steph said in the hospital, are we chasing an impossible dream? I guess, in my own mind, I needed to ask, ‘What dream am I chasing?’ I am always pondering the question that Ivan asked me in the hospital as well. Is our relationship based only on the events we are experiencing? But then, it seems the events completely disappeared tonight. I still don’t know how to answer that question.

Sunday, May 3, 2009
The alarm on my cell phone went off at 7am, which started my normal daily struggle of getting though the shower with a damaged wing. After finishing my bathroom chores, I put on a bathrobe and pondered what I was going to do for clothes. I had not really planned on an overnight trip, so had not packed for one. I decided to see if someone could at least, press my shirt and pants from the day before so they would look half way reasonable. However, I soon discovered that all of my clothes from the previous day were missing.

I entered the living area, with my stylish hotel bathrobe, and saw that Stephanie was already up, dressed and sitting on the couch.

“Good morning,” She greeted me, as she rose from the couch.

“Hi, Princess, did you take my clothes?

“Oh!” she seemed startled, turned and went towards the door. “I ordered these for you last night.” She returned carrying a suit bag and a smaller plastic bag. “I got you a new pair of pants and shirt, along with new underwear and socks.”

“When did you do this?” I was stunned.

“Last night, after you went to sleep. I got the sizes off of the ones you were wearing.”

“I thought you had already gone to sleep?”

She kissed me lightly on the lips, “Darling, sleep is still something I struggle with. I don’t sleep well, so I stayed quiet until you were asleep and then took care of this.”

I think she could read the worried look on my face. “It’s alright, don’t worry. I am getting much, much better, but I do still have some problems.”

She is right, and I don’t know why I should expect otherwise. I returned her kiss. “Thank you, I’ll be right back,” I returned to the bedroom.

After dressing, we ordered coffee and breakfast. Stephanie had packed her suitcase, and it was sitting by the door when the call came a few minutes before ten that our car was here. I pulled her suitcase as we were escorted down to the waiting car.

The trip to the Vasnev’s home took us out of metro D.C. and into northern Virginia. The drive was actually pleasant as we toured through the rolling green hills and passed the stately mansions built on Civil War era farms. After nearly an hour, we pulled into the drive of one of those mansions and stopped at an iron gate that blocked the drive to the house. Armed guards checked our identities and inspected the car before allowing us to continue.

Stephanie simply opened the door to the house and walked in, with me behind her. As we entered the house, Vivian was approaching the door.

“Good morning, child,” Vivian greeting Stephanie with a kiss to the cheek. “Welcome, Dan, please come in.”

Vivian led us to a set of double doors that I could see were the entry to a large office or study. Stephanie turned to me. “I have some things of my own to do while you visit with Ivan. I will see you later for lunch.” She then lightly kissed me, took her suitcase and headed down the hall.

Vivian smiled, and I actually felt a little embarrassed to have her see Steph kiss me. Nothing was said as she opened one of the double doors and motioned me to enter.

“Hello, young man, come on in.” Ivan greeted me as I entered the room.

The room looked like a library with two walls full of books, a large desk and a seating area that consisted of two facing couches that were capped on each end with a single overstuffed chair. Ivan was sitting on one of the couches, so I moved to the one opposite him.

“How is that arm doing?” Ivan inquired.

“Better,” I responded, “I should be able to get rid of the sling in a week or so.”

“Excellent. Well, we have a lot to talk about today, so I hope you got some rest last night.”

I felt myself blush, “Yes, Ivan, we were good children.” I said with a smile.

Ivan laughed for a moment, and then became more serious, “Our Mr. Smith,” Ivan gave slight chuckle, “said I was to explain our suspicions to you. So, I will tell you a story, but I warn you, it is not a pretty story.”

I nodded my understanding.

Ivan took a moment to collect his thoughts. “For as long as the concept of psychiatric medicine has existed, doctors and scientists have been researching possible ways to modify human behavior. The vast majority of this work has been targeted for the betterment of society by helping people become more productive members of society as a whole. Efforts such as rehabilitation of criminals, helping troubled children to learn new ways to deal with things, or just helping everyday people with problems such as insomnia, compulsive gambling, etc.

“However, as with all aspects of society, whenever something is developed that may help people; someone will always look at it as a way to reach a more sinister result. When these darker forces started looking at behavioral modifications, they saw them as a way to make people do their bidding for the gain of the controller, not necessarily society. From these activities the phrases of brainwashing and mind control, began to immerge.

Ivan paused for a moment to sip his coffee. Vivian had brought me a cup of coffee and then sat by her husband.

“In the mid 1950’s,” Ivan continued, “at a Russian prison camp outside of Yakutsk in the Republic of Sahka, a semi-ethical program was started to work on the behavior modification of hardened criminals. At least that is how the story was told. In reality, the victims of this study were political prisoners that stood against the ideals of the mother state. Though the original concepts of this program were an attempt to change the subject’s political view point, the program rapidly degraded into a way to maximize the punishment and humiliation of those that opposed the state.

“During this period of history, the concept of homosexuality and transgender behavior was considered to be a major sin against God and society. As such, the greatest punishment and humiliation that could be dreamed for a man, was to make him act as the woman in a sexual act with a man. With this concept in mind, the doctors at the camp began experimenting on methods of forced feminization of the political prisoners. The ultimate goal was to manipulate the prisoner to the point that the prisoner would willing give themselves up as a sexual toy for other men.”

I think I was turning white, “The government let them do that?”

Ivan smiled, “Remember, the Soviet government had many other issues to deal with, and as long at their political opposition was locked up somewhere, they really didn’t care what happened to them. Anyway, since the doctors had an almost unlimited supply of political prisoners, they began experimenting with many different ways to accomplish the end goal. They used physical torture, body modifications, and large variations of chemical and drug cocktails to see what the overall impact was on the prisoner. Over the period of a few years, they began to identify a methodology that worked over ninety percent of the time, and they continued to refine it.”

“Ivan,” I interrupted, “I am sorry to interrupt, but how do you know so much about this?”

An aurora of sadness came over Ivan and he looked down at his coffee. Vivian reached over and gently patted her husband’s leg.

“The sad truth, young man, the head doctor at that prison camp was my father. I was a student at the university at the time and spent summers working with my father at the camp. I saw this activity first hand, and, sadly, I even participated in it.”

That revelation stunned me. How could anyone willing to that to another person, yet I had someone sitting right in front of me. I could feel the anger and disgust starting to build.

“Dan,” Vivian spoke, “before you pass judgment on Ivan, I would like you to hear him out. Please understand that people change, and if you would look at your own attitudes over the past months, you may see that.”

I didn’t understand how she could compare what he did to what I have done. Yes, I agree, my attitudes have been changing, but I didn’t physically torture anyone. I still wanted to hear the story, so I nodded my acceptance.

“I am sorry to disappoint you.” Ivan said, “As the techniques were continually improved, the doctors discovered that over time the subjects would develop an attachment to their controller. They would almost become like pets, willing to do anything the master asked in order to earn praise and positive feedback. The doctors put the subjects through some hideous tests to have them prove their loyalty. Their minds were so completely torn down and rebuilt that they believed the only way to happiness was through the happiness of their controller.

Initially, my father was very surprised with these results. A few ‘friends’ of his in the intelligence community saw a large potential for this work and coaxed my father to start focusing his work towards optimizing these traits. As a result, my father’s work was focused on taking a healthy male, and through the process of forced feminization, physical torture and chemical inducement, turn these men into mindless robots that would do any bidding their controller asked.”

“So, why did you stop being involved?” I asked with an icy tone.

Ivan smiled, “I have to give credit for that to my faithful wife. We met at a convention in Geneva, and since I was Russian and she American, our growing relationship was considered to be taboo on both sides. My father was adamant that I was not to have a relationship with her, and in that behavior I began to see that my raising was not much different than his test subjects. Oh, I was not subjected to the physical tortures, but the mental manipulations were designed to have me focus on seeking his praise and approval. When I was no longer doing the things he wanted of me, I became nothing but a nuisance to him.

“My eyes were finally opened to the fact that what my father was doing was not science, but madness. I stood out against him and tried to have his experiments stopped. However, it seemed his work had become an interest to too many internal security agencies, and I was arrested and sent to prison. I spent one year in prison before I promised my father I would be a good boy. I was released on the condition that I would return to work with my father, which I did until I earned enough of his trust that he allowed me to attend another convention. At that convention, I met up with Vivian again, and she helped me defect to the United States.”

“Your own father had you thrown in prison?” I asked, unable to comprehend that.

“Oh, yes,” Vivian answered, “and it would have been much worse had Ivan not used his head to find a way out. These are not nice people we are talking about, Dan.”

“Okay, so how does this relate to what is going on today?” I asked.

“My father died in 1966,” Ivan continued, “and the best that we can tell, his work stopped at the same time. Public outcry against the inhuman treatment of prisoners was starting to reach a peak, so the Russian government put a stop to such activities. At least they said they did. Since I had already defected, all of my father’s belongings, including his research notes, were given to my sister. With the assistance of the U.S. embassy, my sister was able to pass my father’s research notes to me.

“When young Miss Stephanie was sent to us, the initial evaluation tests that were preformed indicated signs, and signatures similar to the forms of mental manipulation used by my father many years ago. As Vivian and I continued to work with Stephanie, we found much more than just similarities, we found almost exactly matched patterns of behavior modification, which indicated someone was replicating my father’s work. Of course all of this is just speculation, but the longer we have worked with Stephanie, the more convinced we have become. With the unfortunate incident yesterday in Albuquerque, we have reached the conclusion that this type of behavior modification activity is exactly what we are dealing with. “

“Let me make sure I understand you, “I interrupted. “What we had been thinking was a human slavery, pornography, operation; you are now telling me is some kind of brainwashing activity? The type of brainwashing where a person can be programmed to do something then released in public to just wait for their orders?”

“I think that is a fair outline,” Ivan said. “The work that my father did had not reached that level of maturity. His notes clearly show the ability to get his subjects to perform any act that he desired, including murder and suicide, but he had not attempted the long range control necessary for what happened yesterday. However, that is not to say that whoever has taken over his work has not been able to accomplish that.”

This was mind boggling, and I was pretty sure I was not getting the whole picture. The first thing that popped into my mind was a small army of these pre-programmed girls, staged all over the United States, ready to strike at will. Then my mind focused on the fact that Stephanie was one of these girls.

“What about Stephanie?” I asked.

Ivan smiled, “I wondered how long it would take you to get to that connection. Stephanie is fine. We found a few ‘triggers’, for the lack of a better term, programmed into her. However they were not what we would call dominating triggers.”

Ivan paused for a moment, “Now, what I am going to tell you next is really more speculation than anything, but hopefully, educated speculation. When my father was doing his experimentation the concept of transgendered people was not well known or believed in. For the techniques that my father had developed to be at their most effective required a subject whose mind was well into the ninety five percent, or greater, male end of the spectrum. People in that category would have the strongest reaction to the forced feminization they were subjected to. His notes did report failures, or people that he could not totally control, even though he was able to magnify their female persona.

“My guess is he was running into the natural percentage of the population of males there were more effeminate than what was required for success of the techniques. Based on my knowledge of Stephanie, I believe that is the case there, as well. We know from her background that she was always fighting to maintain her masculine identity as a boy. Therefore, we are pretty confident that she was an effeminate male. If my theory is correct, the techniques used on her were able to amplify her femininity and to brainwasher her to some level. However, they were never able to break her down enough to establish the long range controls they were seeking. As such, she was discarded.”

I sat shaking my head, “I am sorry, but I just don’t understand any of this, or how it works or anything else about it. You are telling me, these people can grab a man off of the street, turn him in to a woman, reprogram his brain to think like a woman and then turn back out into society?”

“No, not quite,” Ivan said with a serious look. “I would agree with everything you said with the exception of ‘think like a woman’. However, based on my father’s work and the poor dental assistant in Albuquerque, I think we can say they found a way use these poor people. I would also assume it say to say, if they have done it once, they can do it again.”

“Okay,” I said, “let’s talk about Stephanie a little more. Why is she so feminine? I mean, if it wasn’t for the fact that I already knew she started life as a male, I would never know.”

“What you see in Stephanie,” Ivan started, “is the combined effects of three things. First, her natural genetics. As we have already discussed, her history shows some effeminate behavior. Second, the results of the program she went through. Due the negative/positive reinforcement she received in the past, the results are partially due to her captures, but also her own internal defense systems. The more feminine she became, the less negative reinforcement was needed. There is also an impact from our own work that required amplifying her feminine side to overcome some of the other issues we encountered. “

“What other issues?” I pushed.

“I am sorry, Dan,” Vivian spoke, “but there are certain things that we will not discuss with you concerning Stephanie, as it falls under doctor/patient and we wish to keep it private.”

I looked at her for a moment, “It bothers me that there is something about Stephanie that you are not telling me.”

Vivian smiled, “I am sure it does, because you are her protector, and you are in love with her. However, please understand, the sessions that we have with Stephanie are private and are to be only shared between her, my husband and I. If anything should come up that puts her at risk, or is a danger to her, I will promise you I will tell you.”

I am not really sure I heard everything she said after her statement that I was in love with Stephanie. Was I? I knew I was very attracted to her, I cared for her a lot, but was I in love with her? I decide that was one more thing I had to try to get my brain wrapped around.

“Promise to tell him, what?” I heard Stephanie’s voice from behind me. I turned and watched her walk in to the room. She was wearing a light yellow summer dress that reached to her knees. I was surprised, because this was the first time I had seen her in a dress since her breakdown in Tucson. Stephanie walked around the couch and sat down by me, placing her hand in my lap. She was definitely beautiful. Was I in love with her?

“We were just talking about some of your sessions, Dear, and Ivan and I would rather keep those private.”

Stephanie turned to me and smiled, “Why would you be interested in that boring stuff?” Then turning back to the , “Lunch is ready whenever you are.”

Stephanie escorted me to the dining room, where a large table was set with six places and a large variety of foods. I heard the door bell ring, and Vivian left the room to answer the door. A few moments later, Vivian returned, followed by Smith and another man that I did not know.

“Hello everyone,” Smith announced to the room, “I would like to introduce you to Richard White, a co-worker of mine.”

Handshakes were extended around the room and everyone was seated at the table. Stephanie was seated next to me, with Smith and Mr. White seated across from us. Vivian and Ivan sat at opposite ends. Initial conversation was focus around lunch as various foods were passed and explained.

After everyone had filled their plate, Smith looked at me. “What did you think of Ivan’s story this morning, Dan?”

“Mind boggling does not even begin to describe it,” I answered, “Terrifying in the concept, and adding to the fact we have no idea how to stop it. I keep finding myself thinking this is science fiction, and can’t really be happening.”

“Not only can it happen, it is happening based on the evidence that we have,” Smith answered. “We now have 7 of the 24 girls accounted for, assuming, our Stephanie was the last one taken. We do not have identification on our dental assistant yet. The fingerprints do not seem to be in any of the databases, so we are back to searching missing persons reports, which could take forever. We have the sketch of ‘Charlie’ being circulated throughout the all of the law enforcement agencies in the world that we have agreements with, but, so far, no idea who he is.”

“But we have to look for a Russian connection, Right?” I asked, looking at Smith and Ivan.

“Yes,” Smith answered. “We have much a better working relationship with Soviets now than we have ever had. The picture has been forwarded to them as well. I had a frank discussion with a counterpart in Russian intelligence this morning, and he vehemently denies any knowledge of such an operations. So, we can’t rule out that this organization could be freelance, but they have a large money source, so I still have to assume they are being backed by someone.”

I kept watching Stephanie through this whole conversation. She was actively listening to the conversation but showed no outward emotional signs to the discussion.

She caught me looking once. “I am sorry, Darling,” Stephanie said to me, “but I have no idea who number seven was. I have no memory of ever meeting her.”

“So, what do we do now?” I asked, “Sit on our thumbs until we find the identity of one of our unknowns?”

“No,” Smith said, putting his fork down, “We have another idea, but you will not like it, and it will piss you off because you are the last one to know about it. We want to move Stephanie into the open a little, and see if we can catch the followers.”

I stopped in mid bite, and looked at Smith, “Like hell you are!”

Smith gave a half smile, “I think I win the pot on that response. Dan, look, I am positive that whoever is behind this already knows where Stephanie is. I am willing to bet they are already watching this place as we sit here. I want to try to take advantage of that and see if we can get them to trip up a little, and give us more to work on.”

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, “You are not, and I will repeat not, going to use her as bait and some sacrificial lamb. We are not playing games with her life, period!”

Stephanie turned facing me, “Dan, I am sorry, but it is my life, and I want to get some of it back. If that means taking some risk so we can put an end to this, then that is what I want to do.”

I sat there stunned for a second, looking back and forth between Smith and Stephanie. Again, I am the last one to know what the hell is going on, and they are talking about putting Stephanie at risk.

I stood up and took Stephanie’s hand. “Would all of you excuse the two of us for just a minute?” I said as I led Stephanie back into the study and closed the door.

“How can you let them talk you into this?” I asked as soon as the door was closed.

“Talk me into this? I was mostly my idea to start with,” Stephanie responded.

“Your idea, based on which one of them convincing you, Smith or Ivan?”

Stephanie’s face clouded over and for the first time since Tucson, I saw anger in her eyes. “What, you think they are manipulating me, Dan? Okay, based on my history, maybe I have to give you a little ground there. No, those people in there are trying to work with me to solve a problem. The only one trying to ‘control’ me right now is you.” There was anger and volume in her voice and I was stunned by the response.

“I want my life back,” Stephanie continued. “I want the freedom to do what I want to do and go where I want to go. I want to stop this madness and get the other girls out of there. If that requires taking a little risk, then that is what I am going to do.” Stephanie’s ferocity startled me, even had me taking a step back.

A tear started forming in Stephanie’s eyes, “Now, I love you Daniel McNeil, but I will not have anyone tell me what I can or can’t do again. If you think that is the role you are going to take in my life, then we have a major problem before we even get out of the starting gate.”

She turned to the door and started to open it. I step behind her and stopped the door, she didn’t fight me. I pushed the door closed and wrapped my arm around waist pulling her back to me. I paused for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Steph.” I whispered, “You are right. You need to have control of your life, and I should be supporting you, not fighting you. I haven’t said this yet but, I love you too, I don’t want to lose you and I am afraid that will happen. I’m sorry.”

Stephanie turned inside my arm, facing me. She put one hand on each of my cheeks and looked me in the eye. “I don’t want to lose you either. The only way we should be broken apart is if someone takes us apart, we should not be fighting each other. I understand you want to protect me and I can’t express my gratitude enough for that. We have to work together.”

I nodded, “I’m sorry, you are right. I’m sorry.”

Stephanie pulled my face to her and kissed me softly. “Then, let’s go back in there and figure out how we are going to solve this thing, as a team.”

I nodded, “Okay, but I need something from you too. I want this team, the you and me team. To have that I have to trust you, but you have to make sure there are no more behind my back plans being made. “

Stephanie sighed, “You’re right, and I am sorry about that. No more.”

“Thank you. Also, I don’t trust Smith. I think he would sacrifice any of us if he felt it was for the greater good. Please be careful around him.”

Steph nodded again. I kissed her lightly, “Let’s go do this.”

I was holding Stephanie’s hand as we walked back into the dining area and returned to our chairs. “Okay,” I said looking at Smith, “what is this plan?”

Ivan laughed, “I win the pot that time.”

I had a response for him about to come out of my mouth, I think Stephanie sensed and quickly grabbed my hand. I bit the response back and looked back at Smith.

Smith nodded his head, “As I said, I am pretty sure they, whoever they are, are watching this place right now. What I want to do is a surprise move that only the people sitting in this room will know about. Dan, I want you to take Stephanie home with you for a couple of weeks.”

“How do you plan to protect her?” I asked. “I am still winged, nowhere near at one hundred percent.”

“To be honest with you,” Smith responded, “protecting her will be our second priority. Now, before you tear my head off, hear me out. Mr. White,” pointing to the man next to him, “is the commander of an advanced team that I have already sent to Tucson. We have ten assets there right now setting up a security screen around your house. However, they are not there to watch you, they are there to watch the watchers.”

Smith paused for a moment to see if I was going to say anything. Though I wanted to, I held back and just nodded.

“Once Stephanie leaves here,” Smith continued, “the people watching her will be trying to figure out where she went. It won’t take them long, and then they will try to move assets to Tucson. The team I have down there are specially trained anti-surveillance experts who will be watching for the watchers to show up. Once they do, we will have them, and try to trace their communications to see where they are reporting back to.”

“What are we suppose to do in Tucson?” I asked.

“Whatever you want, within reason. You are a smart man, and I don’t think you will have her standing out on the street by herself. However, at the same time we want these people to know where she is. We don’t want to make it too obvious, but we don’t want to completely hide it, either.”

“Am I going to have any assistance in case something goes down?”

“We will have a response team in the area along with the surveillance folks. Please don’t look for them.”

I looked at Stephanie, who nodded her head that she agreed.

“Okay,” I asked to Smith, “When do we leave?”

The Princess of the Desert

By Melodie Thomas

Edited by Holly Hart

Chapter 10

Thursday, May 7, 2009
Stephanie and I stayed one more night in D.C. before taking the Lear back to Tucson on Monday morning. Smith said he wanted to make sure the team in Tucson was ready for us. The case was very fragmented; nothing that we had collected to date seemed to tie together in a single story. We started with a case of human kidnapping and pornography distribution, after finding Stephanie, added in some random memories and a couple videos. We had been able to trace the videos to an abandon property outside of Tucson, in which, collected finger print evidence targeted Garcia and Whisler. Whisler turned out to be nothing more than a poor schmuck that got caught up in his own sexual fantasies and only had ties to Garcia, he had nothing to add about anything beyond Garcia. He ended up facing charges of interfering with a Federal Investigation, not much more than misdemeanor charges.

Garcia, on the other hand, did seem to have ties with someone bigger in the food chain. Once federal prosecutors convinced him that his chance of walking away was slim, Garcia had started talking. We got the hand drawn picture of someone else that we don’t know. This new player is being identified as ‘Charlie’ by both Garcia and Stephanie. Due to the fact that Garcia was found to be flayed by a dental assistant with the same brand as Stephanie, the case took on a different persona, from kidnapping to international terrorism, in one single afternoon. A group of programmable, smart bombs that could look like the girl next door, and may actually be the girl next door. The fact that whoever controlled these weapons felt threatened enough by what Garcia could have said to actually use one of them to silence him, and expose the intent of the network, indicated how badly we’d screwed up with Garcia. That action also had us wondering if some unknown timeline may be accelerating now as well.

The stories told by Ivan Vasnev seemed too far out there for me to really believe. I could not understand how a man could be made to do the things I was told about. Even more, how they could learn to do it willingly. Each time I questioned the validity of such claims I would receive smiles from Vasnevs and Smith, that went along the lines of ‘you poor, naíve, child’, as they would patiently try to give me many other examples of how all of the mind control stuff worked, and not all of it for bad. I still could not separate the mind control activity that was being discussed and what happened to Stephanie. I have seen pictures of Steven Atkins, and I can barely see Stephanie in them. If the two sets were laid side by side, and I didn’t know, there would be no way I could identify them as the same person.

Not just in her looks, her mannerisms and behaviors all showed grace, elegance and the aurora of a woman. There was no trace of male personality or attitude coming from her body at any time. Even if I could understand the mind control portion, and that Stephanie was the way she was due to it, I can’t grasp why the effort to keep her there, which the Vasnevs both say they are doing. At the same time, she has such a magical effect on me that I can’t explain. Since I kissed her for the first time the other night, that act seems to be the most natural thing to do, for both of us. The touch of her hand, the flash in her eyes, and that always present smile, just seem to melt away any concerns that I had built up since the last time I saw her. Even though I know Stephanie was not born a girl, I was in love with her, and what scared me, was I really could not tell you why.

Smith continued to work with, as he called them, his Russian counterparts on attempting to chase down the records of Ivan’s father’s notes, or any other information that could lead us to understand who else had access to those notes. Ivan seemed pretty sure that only two sets of the notes existed, one in Ivan’s sister’s possession, and the other in the national archives in Moscow. Russian authorities checked on the status of both notes and reported the ones in the national archives had been untouched for over 30 years, however, the set in Ivan Vasnev’s sister’s possession were missing. Once the revelation was made that the set of historical notes, thought to be in the sister’s possession, were actually in Ivan’s possession, the political tension in the phone call went up two or three notches. The Russians would start demanding how we knew such thing or learned such things, to which, Smith would just start laughing and mention the name of Robert Hanssen, the FBI spy caught working with the Russians, and soon everyone in the call would be laughing on how good a friend to everyone the FBI was. Much to Smith’s entertainment, I would be trying a feeble attempt and defending the un-defendable. There were still two questions the Russians agreed to looking into further, were we sure there were only two copies of the notes, and how sure were we the copy sent from Ivan’s sister had not been copied?

I called Tina to pick us up at the airport, but I did not tell her that Stephanie was coming with me. Not that I don’t trust my partner, because I do, but borrowing a page from Smith’s playbook, no point in letting people know about things too far in advance. They would find out when they needed to find out. Tina had a couple of dozen questions when she saw Stephanie get off of the plane, and during the drive back to my place Stephanie filled Tina in on the plan. Tina was no happier with what happening than I was, but Stephanie debated the facts with her all the way. I didn’t join the conversation. To be honest, I was pretty impressed with the way Steph was handling herself. For every argument that Tina came up with, Stephanie had a counter. She showed that same high level of intellect that I seen before, and a strong determination. By the end of the conversation, even Tina said she understood. Still didn’t like it, but understood. As we approached my house, even though I knew I was not suppose to, I could not help but looking around to see if I could spot the surveillance team. I didn’t.

As soon as we reached the house, I called Mike Holiday and let him know what was going on, and requested permission to pull a Heckler Koch MP5SD from the armory and keep it at my house. Even though there was suppose to be a support team in the area, I felt very under gunned with just my 10mm service pistol. Mike approved and Tuesday Tina brought the case and ammunition to my place. That afternoon, Tina, Stephanie and I went to the police firing range so I could test fire the H&K, but also I wanted to let Stephanie shoot my service weapon to make sure she could, in an emergency, defend herself if necessary. Of all of the things that Stephanie does to impress me, shooting is not one of them.

Stephanie settled into the bedroom next to mine, and seemed to take quickly to the house, and her comfort of being there. I think I was having far more difficulty with it than she was. First, I was constantly aware of anything that sounded different, always on guard, which made the first few days very nervous and even Stephanie said I was driving her crazy. Secondly, I was worried about Stephanie. Before we left D.C., I’d had a good conversation with Vivian over some of the problems that Stephanie was still experiencing, and Vivian was giving me some guidance on how to deal with them. I will admit, I was pretty worried, not only about the possible issues from outside of the house, but how to deal with the things inside.

Our relationship had taken a significant swing since we met in DC, and was entering a lot more awkward ground. We were no longer playing around the edge of mutual fascination; we were now openly a couple, though outside of the bedroom. Tina commented, when we were out at the police range, that not only did we act like a couple, but we squabbled like a couple, when I was trying to make corrections to Stephanie’s shooting technique, and those corrections were not being well accepted. I was still not sure I was totally comfortable with where our relationship was going, but I knew I was totally comfortable being with Stephanie. There were still a lot of things that I needed to figure out.

Since Smith was very clear that I was not to hide Stephanie, we wanted her to be seen, I took her to physical therapy with me on Tuesday. Besides, other than calling Tina, I was not going to leave her alone at the house. My session with the therapist went about half again as long as normal as Steph got involved, and was quizzing the therapist on exercises and work that could be done at home to help speed my recovery. As a result, I not only had one person trying to tear my arm off, I had a tag team working on it. The therapist would do something that nearly brought tears to my eyes, and then Steph would have to try again to see if they were real tears.

Around two this morning, I transitioned from sound asleep to wide awake, almost instantly, with no understanding why. I had the feeling, in the pit of my stomach, that something was wrong, but had no idea what. I laid there listening to the night, and trying to understand what woke me. The exterior alarm for the house had been set, and the remote by my bed showed everything was fine. Then I heard the sound of something sliding slowly down the wall, on the other side of my bedroom wall. As I focused on the sound, I could hear other sounds coming from the other side of the wall, which was Stephanie’s room.

Slipping from my bed, I grabbed my service weapon and eased open my bedroom door. Stephanie’s door was right next to mine, and I could see it was closed. I eased over to her door and listened through the door. I thought I could hear sounds coming from inside Steph’s room. I slowly opened the door to her room, and as I did the sound of sobbing was unmistakable. Peering into Steph’s room, I could see her bed was empty. Opening the door further, I spotted Stephanie sitting on the floor in the corner. She had her knees pulled up to her chest and was crying.

“Steph, are you alright?” I asked as I knelt beside her. She looked at me like she had just realized I was there, through large rivers of tears.

“Make him go away; he wants to hurt me again.” Stephanie pleaded with me.

“Make who go away, Steph?”

“Him!” she answered, pointing at the bed. The bed was empty, no one there.

“Sweetheart, there is no one there, just you and me.” I tried to soother her.

“But, he is right there, laughing at me, please don’t let him hurt me again!” as her sobs increased in intensity.

I half stepped over to the night stand and clicked on the lamp, bringing the room out of darkness. The look in Stephanie’s eyes was of sudden shock, as if she just realized where she was. She looked at the bed, and then looked at me, then back to the bed, then buried her face in her hands, behind her knees. I slide back over and sat beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders and felt her shaking.

“Its, okay, Baby, its okay. There is no one here.” continuing to try to soother her. She continued to cry but started leaning into me as I held her. After a few minutes, I stood, grabbed her slippers and helped her to her feet, leading her into the living room. I had her lay on the couch and pulled a throw blanket off of the back to cover her with. She was lying with her face into the couch; she had not said a word since I turned on the light.

I returned to her room to get one of her pillows and went into her bathroom to get her robe. As soon as I turned the light on, I was stopped by the view of the bathroom counter. I had not been in that bathroom since Stephanie moved in, but the array of medication bottles sitting on that counter was staggering. I didn’t take time to look at them, as I needed to get back to Stephanie, but the number of bottles was boggling. I grabbed her robe and returned to the living room.

Stephanie had not moved from where I left her, though she had stopped crying. Getting her pillow under her head I could tell she was still shaking. Her eyes were closed and I think she was drifting back to sleep. I sat on the floor next to her for a while, stroking her hair until I could tell from her breathing she had gone to sleep. Instead of returning to bed, I sat in one of my recliners where I could watch her. I watched her for quite a while with no issues and somewhere in there I drifted off to sleep. I woke a number of hours later to find myself covered with the same blanket I had covered Stephanie with, and her sitting on the couch sipping coffee and watching me.

“Good morning,” She said, with a small smile, “do you want some coffee?”

I strained to sit up due to being a little stiff from sleeping in the chair and having my shoulder still in a sling. “Good morning, are you okay?”

“Sorry, about last night. I am fine this morning, just feeling a little bad is all.”

“Why do you feel bad, want to talk about it?”

“Do you want that coffee?” she asked, standing up.

“Please, if you don’t mind.”

Stephanie went into the kitchen and returned with a cup for me as I shook off the blankets and got the chair sat up straight.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Stephanie said, returning to the couch, “but what happened to me last night, happens once in a while. I guess you could call it dream walking, I was still in the nightmare when you turned on the light, which woke me up. Sometimes, I have waked up in different parts of the house, or even hiding in the bathtub, never remembering how I got there.”

“You told me to make him go away. Do you remember who it was?”

Stephanie nodded her head, “It is always Robert, Anne’s husband. He used to rape me every day when I was first taken. He would drag me to a bed and repeatedly rape me for days at a time. Of all of the things that I went through, it seems kind of strange that part keeps coming back to haunt me. I can never picture his face, but I know it is him. The pain and humiliation seemed so unbearable at that time.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, there was no way I could understand or even start to comprehend what she had gone through and the demons that still remained from it. All I could do was drink my coffee and be quiet.

“That was before they started using the drugs on me.” Stephanie continued, “I think it was their way of showing me that they owned me and could dominate me in any way they wanted.” Stephanie paused for a moment to sip her coffee, and then continued to look into her coffee cup as she whispered. “I am sorry, Dan. I don’t know how long it will take me to get over it, or if I ever will. I am pretty damaged goods. If you want to change your mind about being with me, I would understand.”

The sadness in her eyes was painful to me. I sat my coffee down and walked over to her, sitting beside her and pulled her into a one arm hug. I could not think of the right words to say, if the right words even existed, so I just hugged her and kissed her forehead.

We sat there for a few moments before Stephanie spoke. “Can I ask you a favor, maybe two favors?”

“Sure.” I whispered.

“First, can you make sure you are with me because you want to be with me, not because you feel sorry for me?”

‘Jesus, how do I answer that one when I am not sure I know the answer myself? This dredges up all the unanswered questions that I fight internally, what do I want, and how do I know I want it? Yes, I have a strong connection to her from the case, but is there more? I think there is more but how do I define it?’

“I will promise you that.” I responded. I hope I actually understand the difference.

Stephanie smiled, “The second one, can we have that Barbeque you offered me a number of months ago? I would like to have some people around for a day if I can. Not that I don’t want to be with you, but I would like to socialize a little, maybe feel a little more normal.”

“Yeah, I think we can do that. Since this coming Sunday is Mother’s Day, how about the following Saturday? I will make a few phone calls and see who can attend.”

Stephanie’s list of friends was pretty small, but I already knew who I would invite, and that included seeing if Brenda could drive down for an afternoon. A couple of hours later, I had set up a small gathering at my place for the following Saturday that included Brenda and Judy, Brenda’s girlfriend, Tina and her husband, and Paula. I even gave Stacy Stanton a call. She said she would love to come down if she could. Tina was already aware that Stephanie was here but I did not tell the others as I invited them, just a little operational security would make me feel better.

Saturday, May 16, 2009
I had the mixed emotions of excitement and frustration as I stood in my backyard, starting up the second smoker that would be used for today’s feast. The excitement from having the barbeque today, which is always fun for me, and Stephanie really seems to be getting into the activity. She has been making salads, snacks and helping with the meats for the last two days, almost none stop. I think I will have enough food to feed an army, The frustration comes, in tomorrow is the end of the two week period that Stephanie was to stay with me to try to draw out the watchers, and nothing has happened. I have called Smith and he has called me a couple of times throughout the past two weeks and we have been unable to get an identification for Charlie, the dental assistant, or no sign of the dreaded watchers that were supposed to be here.

It did not help my attitude that Steph was scheduled to return to living with the Vasnevs on Monday. I really enjoyed having her around and I was going to miss her. I was trying very hard not to think about that part and just focus on enjoying the day. Though we maintained separate bedrooms, and there were no visitation rights between bedrooms, we seemed to live the rest of live like a married couple. It was such a natural and comfortable feeling having her in the kitchen, helping with laundry and the thousand other chores around a house. She was a big part in my being able to get rid of the sling, as she helped me with exercises for my shoulder daily, and I have been without the sling for almost five days.

I had also spent some time on the phone with the Vasnevs, trying to understand about all the medication that Stephanie was talking. It seemed to me like a dozen or more pills and a couple of times per day. Never, knew exactly because the Vasnevs would not tell me, Doctor/patient privileged, they would say. A couple of days later I found a reason to be in Stephanie’s bathroom and noticed all of the pill bottles were now gone. I had planned to write down some of the names and do some of my own research. As I walked out of the bathroom, Stephanie threw her arms around my neck and gave me one of those mind numbing kisses that reminds a man exactly why he is a man, and tends to wake up all body parts. She pressed every inch of her body against me in a very obvious effort to find the ‘on’ switch. She found it. When our lips slowly parted, I could not help but let a small moan escape my lips and I looked into those beautiful eyes.

Stephanie smiled at me, “You have been spying on me, and stop it, please!” With that I got a quick peck to the lips and she turned and walked away. I stood there watching her walk away, knowing my next stop was going to be a cold shower.

I was snapped out of my day dream by the sound of someone tapping on glass behind me. Turning, I saw Stephanie holding up my cell phone and pointing at it through the window. I closed the lids on the smokers and re-entered the house.

“Yes, he just came in. Hang on a second.” Stephanie was saying into the cell phone. She reached the cell phone to me, “Baby, could you put this on speaker? It is Smith.”

I took the phone, activated the speaker and sat it on the table, “McNeil.” I announced.

“Dan,” Smith’s voice came out of the tinny speakers, “two things, first you are being watched …”

My eyes darted to Stephanie, who was already looking at me. As tough as she tried to be I still see the worry in her eyes.

“… second, we have an ID on Charlie.”

“Okay,” I interrupted quickly, “let’s stay with being watched. Who is watching and what do we do?” My mind was already racing on getting Stephanie out of here, taking on defensive positions, canceling the barbeque.

“First, you calm down,” Smith’s voice what rough and demanding, “you are not to do anything but having your family gathering as you had planned. There are two vans that have set up one to two blocks each side of you, early this morning. Both are using encrypted radio and satellite communications. We have been able to isolate their transmissions but are still working on the encryptions.”

“Damn it, Smith,” my voice getting fairly demanding as well, “You are talking about my family and friends here that are going to be in the lion’s den! Their safety will come first with me.”

“McNeil, if you would shut up for a moment, and let me finish, we could save some of this waltzing around and time wasting.” Smith responded with strong sarcasm in his voice.

I bit off a response when Stephanie reached over and put a finger on my lips and nodded to me. I looked at her for a moment and nodded slight in return.

“Okay, I am listening.”

“That would be a first,” Smith retorted, “but I will take your word for it. There are only two guys in each of the vans. My guys are all over them and it is pretty obvious there are just here to listen. However, I am moving the fire team into two minute range, just in case. You will be having two additional guests to your cookout today. Ryan Sloan and Randy Wilcox are both top shooters on the fire team. They are going to show up at your place around one o’clock with a couple of coolers. The coolers will not be beer, but you will invite them in as long time friends. If anything goes down, which I am not expecting, between you and Tina, along with my two shooters, puts some pretty good firepower on the inside.”

Thinking about it, as Smith was talking, two additional guys would not blow any kind of cover either. The party is going to be biased heavy on the female side with Paula and Stacy coming alone. I also liked the idea of having extra guns on the inside. “Okay, I am with you, and we can just pretend they are Paula’s and Stacy’s dates.”

“Mostly,” Smith continued, “we just want to give the watchers something to report. The more they are communicating, the better our chances of tracing the source, or, at best, breaking their encryption.” Smith paused for a moment, “The second piece of news is we have an identity on our ‘Charlie’. My Russian friends identified the picture that Garcia gave us as a Mr. Viktor Charkov.”

“Another Russian?” I asked.

“No, actually, Mr. Charkov is Bosnian and has been known to have ties to a radically Islamic faction that operates out of Bosnia and Serbia. I have an actual photograph that I will forward you via email.”

“Okay,” I injected, “do you have any idea how this Charkov is tied in with the stuff that Ivan has been telling us?”

“Yes, we do, sort of,” Smith paused. “There is a lot more information to gather but, Mr. Charkov was employed as a prison guard at the new Russian prison that was built on the site of the Yakutsk prison camp that Ivan’s father worked at. His services were terminated, about 5 years ago, after some sort of a break in at the infirmary records storage area turned unusually violent. The Russian prison board decided that Mr. Charkov did not exhibit the right amount of restraint and control necessary to be a guard at one of their facilities.”

I laughed out loud, “For some reason that just seems too ironic for me.”

“Regardless of how ironic it seems, that is what is being reported.” Smith continued, “Now, there is another pretty interesting piece of information that needs to be chased down further. Our Mr. Charkov was assigned as a guard working in the infirmary, and was on very good terms with a Russian doctor working there, a Doctor Anya Brajovic, who also left the services of the Russian prison system right around the same time.”

“I will admit these coincidences seem to be a bit much for chance, but a couple of questions,” I asked.

“Hold your questions,” Smith interrupted, “I have more. The name Anya is pronounced Anna, in English. But the most interesting part is Anya Brajovic is married to Robert Brajovic, another Bosnian. Her maiden name is Ayna Mednikov.”

“Okay, so?” I asked

“So,” Smith continued, “Ayna Mednikov is the daughter of Kira Mednikov, who is Ivan Vasnev’s sister. Anya Brajovic is Ivan’s niece.”

Sometimes, a piece of information can hit you like a bomb, and leave the mind unable to formulate a single thought. Mostly because the mind is now racing in so many different directions that it can’t complete a single thought. That information bomb just went off in my mind, and I could tell from the look in Stephanie’s eyes, she was having the same problem. Then the look in her eyes started to change from startled to frightened as I could see the questions form if the man that had almost become a father figure to her over the last months, could somehow be responsible for what happened to her.

“Smith,” I started, without taking my eyes off of Stephanie, “is Ivan involved in this?”

There was a moment pause on the phone, “My gut tells me no,” Smith finally answered, “but I am not going to let this one rest on my gut. I have a team digging through Ivan’s background for the last five years again, and I am leaving Stephanie with you, instead of sending her back for now.”

“What does Ivan say?” Stephanie asked in almost a whisper.

“To be honest, Ivan acts like he was devastated with the news. He has been trying to two hours to get his sister on the phone. He wants to know if she kept a copy of his father’s notes, when she sent the originals to him. Don’t judge him yet, Steph, he may not know anything about this.”

Stephanie slowly nodded, but I could see the moisture forming in her eyes.

“Besides,” Smith continued, “for all we know the notes came from the prison. The break was the infirmary records office, so my Russian friends will try to find out if a copy of the notes were kept there as well. We still have a lot of things to learn.”

“What do we do in the meantime?” I asked

“We keep looking and you keep Stephanie with you. I will call back with anything new I have.” Smith broke the connection.

Stephanie held eye contact with me for a long moment while I let out a long breath. “You okay?”

“Not really. Do you think the Vasnevs could be involved?”

“I don’t know, I have been surprised by bigger things, but I don’t want to believe it.”

Stephanie closed her eyes, “I’m scared, Dan. Besides you, I don’t know who to trust anymore.”

I reached over and took both of her hands, “It will be okay, it will be okay.” I had no idea what else to say.

Since, other than Tina, no one knew that Stephanie was here, she was jumping up and down, wanting to be the one that answered the front door, and surprise everyone. However, that was something I was not going to agree to, since we really had no idea who was on the other side, or even just across the street. So we reached a compromise where I would answer the door and Steph would wait in the living room for whoever was ushered in. Brenda and her girlfriend Judy were the first to arrive. Brenda and Steph embraced like long lost sisters, and I would have sworn I even saw a few tears, though both denied it. The whole concept of greeting people as they arrived went out the window at that point as well, Brenda, Judy and Steph migrated to the patio and I was left to manage the kitchen and front door.

Tina and her husband showed up next, joining the overall banter that was occurring on the patio. The problem of getting my two surprised guests integrated sort of solved itself when I saw them coming up the sidewalk, coolers in tow, being escorted by Paula. Ryan and Randy could have been bookends, both were better than six foot, two hundred pounds, and looked like they lived in a gym all their lives. Both appeared to be early to mid-40’s with salt and pepper hair. Both of them seemed to be almost as infatuated with Paula as she was with them, I was nearly not noticed as they entered the house.

My last guest arrived a little while later. Stacy and I had not gotten on well when she was assigned to the case right after Stephanie had been found. However, she had been very dedicated and close to Stephanie during those early days. I am not sure I would have invited her on my own, but Steph had requested that I do so. Stephanie had told me that regardless of the issues that had occurred early on, and maybe even the missed analysis of her needs, her closest friend during those early days had been Stacy, and Stacy had helped her through many rough periods and was always there for her.

As I answered the door, I saw Stacy looking pretty nervous on the front step. “Hi, Stacy, it is good to see you could make it.”

“Hi, Dan, well, I was surprised to get an invited, but still wondered what was going on, since we did not part on the greatest terms.”

I smiled, “No, we didn’t, but I am glad you came. Please come in.”

I led Stacy into the kitchen area where she could see the people on the patio. Stephanie was not out there. Stacy turned to me, “Dan, why did you invite me? I don’t mean to seem ungrateful, but I am really not part of the group out there,” nodding her head toward the window.

At that moment, Stephanie appeared in the hallway behind Stacy, as if coming back from her room. “Because I asked him to invite you, I never really got a chance to say thank you.”

Stacy spun around at the voice, and her hands went to her mouth, “Oh, my god!” Stacy exclaimed, “Stephanie?”

The two of them embraced and Stephanie led Stacy out to the patio to meet everyone while I finished the kitchen chores.

The rest of the afternoon went without incident, either from the barbeque or outside influences. Both Randy and Ryan informed me that neither had the normal ear bud radio because they would be too obvious. Instead, they both were carrying pagers and there were two others stationed throughout the neighborhood to watch for anything abnormal, which, thankfully, did not occur. I admired their professionalism throughout the day, as they easily integrated themselves as part of the party, but were constantly watching where everyone was and what was going on around them. At one point, Brenda, Stephanie and Paula wandered to the back gazebo for some private time, during which, Randy took a short walk with Tina where he could keep an eye on them, but stay out of their privacy.

Stephanie spent the afternoon with almost a constant smile on her face as she played the perfect hostess. More than once, I received strange looks from Paula, as, I think, she was trying to figure out what was going on between Steph and I, pretty much the same thing I was constantly trying to figure out. It was definitely Stephanie’s party and, from my judgment, she enjoyed every minute of it. As the afternoon started to wind down, Tina needed to get home to her kids and Stacy was driving back to Phoenix, so they bid their farewells to everyone and left. Ryan and Randy did not want things to look out of place so they took their leave around the same time, however, I would swear I saw Ryan exchange phone numbers with Paula. I was not about to ask. I wonder if he knows.

With all of the food put away, the dishes done and I finished the last of the chores, grabbed a beer and sat on the end the couch for a little quiet time of my own.. Stephanie was sitting outside with Brenda, Julie and Paula. My mind was going back over all of the things I had learned today and what the possibilities were. The chance that Ivan Vasnev could be involved was just overwhelming, however, I was having a hard time believing it. He had spent so much time with Stephanie and really seemed to be helping her, as well as gaining her trust. If he was involved, he could have easily have manipulated everything to silence her, but he was doing the opposite. How about Vivian, could she be involved as well? I didn’t trust Smith for different reasons, but now I did not know who to trust at all, nor did I know what to do about it.

Paula entering the room from the kitchen, carrying her glass of ice tea, interrupted my thoughts. “Great barbeque Dan, Thanks.” Paula said as she sat in a chair opposite me.

“You’re welcome, glad you liked it.” I responded with a slight toast of my beer.

“Stephanie seems totally different than the last time I saw her.” Paula sipped her tea, “How is she really doing?”

I thought for a few moments, “I think she is a lot better than she used to be, but a long way from past this thing. She still has a lot of trouble sleeping at night, and I can’t believe the amount of medication they seem to have her on.”

“What kind of medication?”

“Don’t know and I can’t get the Vasnev’s or Stephanie to tell me what it is. One night, during one of her nightmares, I saw all the bottles but did not take time to look at them. I tried talking to the Vasnev’s but they wouldn’t share. Next, I was going to get some of the medication names off the bottles and look them up myself, but not only have the bottles disappeared but those I can find no longer have labels on them. It bothers me that Stephanie wants to hide that from me.”

Paula thought for a moment, “Maybe she just does not want you worrying about her that much or maybe she just wants you to treat her as a normal person and not discuss any medical issues.”

“Okay, but to the point of taking the labels off of the bottles? I don’t know, but that seems a little over the top to me.”

“Perhaps,” Paula responded thoughtfully, “If you would like, I can try to talk to her and see if she will share with me.”

“I would appreciate it, Paula. There are a number of things going on that I don’t understand or don’t feel that I have all the information on, and Stephanie’s health and medical issues are a big part of them. The Vasnev’s seem to be playing matchmaker a lot between Steph and me, but they don’t seem too willing to fill me in on the ongoing issues that she may be having. That seems contradictory to me.”

“How long is she going to be staying with you?”

“At least another week.”

“Okay, I have some time on Wednesday afternoon; do you think you can drop her by my office?”

Tuesday, May 19, 2009
The last couple of days were pretty quiet, with only one call from Smith, and no real updates. Background investigation was continuing on Ivan, but nothing had been found so far. Ivan still had not been able to reach his sister on the phone, so Smith said some of his friends in Russian were going to stop by and visit Kira.

Stephanie had not called the Vasnevs since Friday, something she did every day. However, they have not tried to call her either, so it appears a mutual understanding is in place at the moment. We had just returned from my final physical therapy session when my cell phone chirped. I saw the call was from Smith so I put it on speaker.

“McNeil” I answered.

“Okay, kiddies,” Smith responded, “pack your suitcases; we are headed for a field trip.”

“Where and why?” I asked.

“Why, is because we got a trace on the messages send by your watchers, where, will be answered when you get to the airport. The Lear will be arriving in about two and half hours. Be there. Oh, and you may be gone a few days, so you may not want to take your car.” Smith broke the connection. I love the way he avoids questions.

I called Tina and asked if she could give us a ride while Steph headed to her room to start packing. Almost two hours later, Tina picked us up and we arrived at the airport just minutes before the plane was scheduled to land. We watched the Lear land, turn onto the taxiway, and stop a hundred feet from where Tina had parked. As with past pickups, the engines were not shutting down as the door opened and the stairs extended. I asked Tina to call Mike and let him know what was going on and I promised to keep her informed the best I could. Stephanie was giving Tina a hug as I saw Smith at the top of the stairs signaling us to hurry. We grabbed our bags and boarded the plane.

As we entered the plane, the cabin steward took our bags to a rear storage area, as the door closed behind us and the plane started moving. Smith was seated at one of the forward tables watching. Stephanie and I slid into seats opposite him.

“So,” Stephanie asked first, “where are we going?”

“Manila, Philippines,” Smith responded.

The Princess of the Desert

By Melodie Thomas

Edited by Holly Hart

Chapter 11

Friday, May 22, 2009
After the Lear was airborne out of Tucson, Smith explained to us that his team had actually broken the encryption of the people watching Stephanie, and were currently listening in on the conversations. Two critical pieces of information had been collected.” First, Viktor Charkov is going to Manila on May 25th to pick up some new recruits, which we assume means some new kidnap victims. This piece of information not only will give us a chance to intercept Charkov, but also tells us they are still actively pulling people off of the streets, and not all of those people are coming from the United States. No information has been gathered that tells us where Charkov is at the moment, but knowing where he is going to be gives us an advantage.” Smith said he already had surveillance teams watching the Ninoy Aquino International Airport in Manila. Of course it was always possible for Charkov to land somewhere else in the Philippines and drive to Manila, but we had to go with what we knew.

Smith also gave us an update on the investigation into the Vasnevs. Not only did Ivan’s sister keep a copy of the notes, but gave those notes to her daughter for, as she said, keepsakes. His Russian contacts also confirmed that an even more detailed set of notes were being kept at the prison infirmary and those notes were also taken during the break in. All of the evidence was pointing toward Anya and Robert Brajovic as being our top suspects, which left Ivan in a terrible place, even if he was not involved. He could no longer approach the situation from an unbiased point of view, which would make all of his actions suspect. Smith was not clear on how that was being managed.

Smith wanted to have Stephanie available in the Philippines to help with identification of anyone encountered, but far enough away from any activity to be safe. The reason for the urgency of our trip came in the second piece of information gathered; a hit was being planned against Stephanie at my house. Though the actual timeline of the attack had not been gathered, the decision was to cut it off early and move Stephanie. However, this time, Smith wanted Stephanie drop off the radar and disappear completely.

The plan was to hide Stephanie and me in plain sight. The idea was the people looking for us had limited resources, and unless they knew where to look, they could never find us, even if we were sitting in a street side café. The Lear, on the other hand, was fairly easy to track. Flight plans had to be filed, even by the government, and flight plans could be hacked. The Lear flew nonstop from Tucson to Edwards Air Force base in California. After touching down at Edwards, the Lear was taxied into a large hanger where Stephanie and I quickly left the plane with our luggage, at the same time two people that were dressed to look like us, got on the plane. The Lear continued through the hanger, back onto the taxi way and took off again for parts unknown, at least unknown to us.

Stephanie and I were ushered to a nondescript car with a Hertz label on the inside. I was handed a pack of papers and the keys to the car and told to drive to Los Angeles International Airport and turn the car in. Inside the packet of papers were passports in the names of Mike and Carol Adams, containing our pictures, along with a flight itinerary on Delta Airlines from LAX to Manila, via Tokyo. The cover story was that I was an Investment Banker and we were travelling, as husband and wife for a two week holiday in Manila. We had hotel reservations at the Shangri-La in Makati City. My wallet was taken from me and a new one supplied that contained cash, credit cards and a driver’s license in the name of Mike Adams, and Stephanie was given a purse with similar contents. They even footed the bill for business class tickets.

Business class tickets or not, that was one long flight. From LA to Tokyo took ten hours, a two hour layover in Tokyo followed by another five hour flight to Manila. We landed in Manila at 11pm and even with a little sleep on the flight, we were both pretty rummy when we went through immigrations with our fake passports. Talk about nerves. After collecting our luggage and clearing customs, we found our driver and were delivered to the hotel, checked in and escorted to our room. Once the bellboy left we fell into the king sized bed and were sound asleep before either of us realized this was the first time we would be sleeping in the same bed.

Morning caught me with a stream of sunshine , right into my eyes past the edge of a curtain. I woke up enough to shield my eyes with my left hand, but immediately felt something different on my right side. Turning my head slightly I caught sight of a pile of hair and identified the weight on my shoulder as Stephanie’s head. Her body was pressed up against mine, with her head on my shoulder and my arm wrapped around her shoulders. I could feel the pressure of her breasts against my side and I could see the peaceful parting of her lips as she slept. As my mind continued to wake and process the information around me, I could feel one of her legs draped over my right leg, basically pinning me to the bed.

Not wanting to disturb her, I laid my head back down and relaxed. It actually felt like my right arm was asleep from the lack of blood flow, but nothing was hurting. That situation started to change about fifteen minutes later, when the morning call of nature that I was feeling started to become more urgent. I was able to hold out for another ten minutes or so before the pressure became uncomfortable. As I tried to adjust my position by moving my hips slightly I glanced down at Stephanie, surprised to see a smile on her face, but her eyes still closed.

“Were you just going to lie here all day if I didn’t move?” she asked without moving anything but her lips.

“Well, the thought had crossed my mind, but I don’t think I would have made it.”

Stephanie lifted her head, kissed me softly on the cheek, pulled her leg off of mine, “Go take care of business and come back, please.”

I did as requested, Upon returning to the bed Stephanie resumed the same position she had been in, pressed against my side, with her head on my shoulder. However, she did not replace the leg draped over mine.

“I don’t know,” Stephanie almost mumbled, like talking in her sleep, “if it was the flight or your shoulder, but that was the best night’s sleep I can ever remember having.”

I just lay there, lightly rubbing her back through her night gown. Feeling the presence of her this close and feeling the pressure of her breasts was having an effect on me, one I did not know how to control, and the motion of my hand on her back felt so natural.

“I don’t remember dreaming,” Stephanie continued, “I don’t remember waking up, it was just a sweet, peaceful sleep. Also, if you keep rubbing my back like that, I will probably go right back to sleep.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, I don’t want you to stop.”

Stephanie lifted her head and looked me in the eyes. She inched herself a little higher in the bed so her breasts were pressed more to the side of my chest, and her face was level with mine. My hand rubbing her back was now reaching her lower back, instead of just the shoulder blades. She lifted her right hand and stroked the side of my face, then lowered her lips to mine with a very soft, parted lip kiss. The pressure of the kiss slowly increased until our lips were pressed together and instinctively my tongue reacted; find hers on the other side.

Without realizing I was doing it, my right arm had stopped moving and was pulling her tighter to me with my left arm reaching around to complete the embrace. The combined action of both arms pulled Stephanie more on top of me and increased the urgency of the kiss. My left hand slid slowly off of her shoulder until it found, cupped, and gently started massaging her right breast. My actions on her breast caused a moan to escape from her lips, and stimulated the activity of her tongue. My right hand started working its way down her back towards her butt, and as soon as it crossed her waist, making contact with her panties, Stephanie suddenly froze as stiff as a board. Her left hand shot down and grabbed my right wrist to stop further travel, and she went completely rigid.

“Steph?” I asked, after a few moments had passed and she showed no movement. When she did not respond, I reached under her chin with my left and lifted her face. I could see the tears coming from the seams of her eye lids as her eyes were closed tightly. “Steph?” I probed again.

Without opening her eyes, she slowly shook her head, “I am sorry, Dan, I can’t do that.”

Like a light switch, my brain engaged with a sudden realization. In the heat of the moment that had just occurred, I had seen Stephanie only as a beautiful, sexy and desirable woman. The concept that there was only one way she could have sex had totally escaped me, and that way was an avenue of torture for her. I pulled both of my arms up and wrapped them around her, pulling her to me.

“I am sorry, Baby,” I whispered in her ear, “I got out of control. I am sorry.”

Stephanie shook her head slightly, “No, I wanted you to get out of control. I wanted you to take me and make love to me. I guess I also forgot that I can’t.”

We were both quiet for a few moments before Stephanie whispered, “Dan, I want you so badly. I want to be a woman for you and feel you close to me. But I can only make love to you as a woman; I can’t do it this way. I am so sorry.”

“It is okay, Steph, we will take our time and figure out what to do.”

Stephanie lifted her head so she was looking me in the eye, “Dan, I want to be a full woman for you. I want the final surgery that will turn me in to the woman you want. I want it Dan, I want it.”

Her intensity surprised me and this was the first time that the final sexual reassignment surgery had ever been mentioned by Stephanie. I am not sure what it was, but I felt there was something out of place here, something that was being controlled. Why did this topic suddenly come up? Why the sudden urgency for a sex change, as the sex change topic had not even been mentioned in months. This just did not feel right to me. Maybe it was driven by this being our first, real passionate encounter, and that encounter drove the emotion. Even though she felt incredible in my arms at this moment, I was hearing alarms.

We lay wrapped in each other’s arms for a few silent minutes while we let the passion of the encounter subside. Slowly untangling from each other, we headed of for the shower. Stephanie went first. We were supposed to be on a vacation, so we needed to find vacation type things to do. Smith had told us that we would be contacted when needed, and in the meantime to keep up our covers. Our plan was to go down to breakfast, then visit the travel/tour office in the hotel to see what we could do on the government’s money for the next few days. Actually, we both got quite a kick out of that concept.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Stephanie developed her custom place and every night fell asleep snuggled into my right shoulder. She claimed that not only were there no nightmares, she could barely remember a dream the whole time and now believed her safety zone was sleeping against me. Personally, I found this closeness to be very comforting as well. Yes, I still went through bouts of the hormones wanting to get in the way, but we avoided allowing our kissing and snuggling from going that far. The one thing I noticed the most was the bed felt very empty when Steph got up for some reason.

Manila, Philippines is an interesting place, what it is not, is an interesting tourist place. Even though we had the government’s money to spend, Stephanie and I had a very hard time finding things to spend it on, to keep up the appearance of a couple on vacation. Beyond a few of the WWII landmarks, such as Corregidor, the nearby Taal volcano, and the expansive, if not underdeveloped, pineapple farms around the city, there is just not that much to see. Manila more revealed the sharp contrast of the have and have not’s than anyplace I had ever seen before. From ten people living in a ten by ten concrete room to massive mansions for two, all within walking distance of each other. Street people were a very common occurrence, and children begging for pesos were encountered daily. After a while, we even came to the conclusion that some of this activity was considered normal living, and a few of the children that would hit us up for whatever loose change was in our pockets, were also wearing shoes that cost more than the ones I had on. Basically, foreigners meant money, just ask for it.

The primary tourist activity for the area seem to come in the draw of males from all over the world to the bars and discotheques between Manila and Angles City, where young girls, young boys and those that were not too sure, plied the world’s oldest profession as a form of sustenance and a way to support families. An evening spent walking around any of these groups of establishments revealed the depths some would go to survive in this world, and those that would take advantage of someone in need for financial and entertainment gain. Though prostitution is illegal in the Philippines, we discovered the police were not only turning a blind eye, but were often involved in it in some form. From what we could see, Charkov would not need to come here to kidnap people. All that would be required would be putting up a sign offering free room and board, and Charkov would have people lined up by the thousands volunteering for whatever degrading things were asked for.

We had been there for four days so far, and had had no contact with Smith, or anyone representing him. The travel agency at the hotel had offered to send us on overnight tours to some the outlying beach areas, but with no idea what was going to happen or when, Stephanie and I needed to stay close. According the information we had, Charkov was supposed to arrive in Manila the day before, but we had heard nothing .

Our breakfast conversation this morning had centered on what we were going to do today, besides continue to tour one of the two nearby malls, occasionally buying something we did not need, just so it would look like we had a purpose. By the time breakfast was over, we decided this was going to be a pool day, just lounging around on the sun deck, and enjoying the tropical drinks that were available. They needed to do something with all the pineapple grown here.

Stephanie took my hand as we left the restaurant and walked to the elevator bank that would take us back to our room. As we entered the elevator, another man stepped on board as well. He politely nodded towards us, and then turned to face the elevator door. The man was nearly six feet tall with a well-trimmed body. He was wearing a well-fitting two piece suit and tie, carrying a briefcase. The most concerning things I noticed was, as he turned in the elevator, I could see the outline of a handgun on his right hip, and the floor he selected was the same one we were going to. When the elevator door opened on our floor, the man stepped out and turned right. I could see he was checking out the room number signs when Steph and I exited with a left turn towards our room.

I hurried Stephanie along to get to our room. I was not sure she was aware of what was bothering me, but she did not question and I could tell from the look in her eye she was nervous, mostly because I was. We reached our door and I inserted the keycard. Just as the door opened, I could see the man approaching down the hall, so I lightly pushed Stephanie into the room, handed her the keycard, and closed the door as I turned to face the man approaching me.

“Can I help you?” I addressed the man when he was about ten feet away. This was not a good position, as I knew he was armed and I was not. I was traveling as a civilian tourist, so carrying my service weapon was not part of the cover. There were no protective structures in the hall and the only hope I would have if he pulled a weapon, was to charge him so I wanted the distance between us to close a little.

“Is this your room?” He asked, nodding towards our door.

“Depends, what can I help you with?”

The man smiled, “I am looking for Agent Dan McNeil, that wouldn’t happen to be you would it?”

No one, outside of Smith’s organization was supposed to know we were here and I had no idea who this guy was. “Sorry, no. However, may I ask who you are?”

Without changing his smile, he slowly reached into his breast pocket and pulled out an ID packet, which he handed to me. I opened the packet and saw the FBI badge and the identification card, with his picture, that said Agent George Styles, FBI liaison to Philippine Embassy.

“Now that we know who each other are,” Styles started, “perhaps we can step into your room so we can have this discussion a little more privately? By the way, who was the girl?”

“The girl?” I asked. If someone knew I was here they would know who I was with, so his question did not sit right with me.

Styles lost the smile, “Yes, you were supposed to be here watching over some transsexual. The girl was not something I was briefed on, so if you have brought a third party in, it could complicate things quite a bit.”

Now it was my turn to smile as I reached up and tapped lightly on the door to our room. The door opened and, true to what I had been trying to teach her, Stephanie did not frame herself in the opening. Instead, she stayed behind the door, and out of sight of anyone coming in. I motioned for Styles to enter the room and followed him.

As soon as he stepped through the doorway, I lunged forward, driving my left shin into the back of both of his knees causing the knees to buckle forward and dropping Styles hard onto the floor. I allowed the momentum of my body to hit him across the shoulders and finish driving him face first into the floor. My right hand slid up under his jacket and removed the Smith & Wesson 10mm for its holster; I pushed the brief case away from him and then checked both ankles for a backup piece. The entire move took only seconds, and Stephanie had barely closed the door before I was off of Styles and backing way.

“What the Fuck!” Styles screamed as he pulled himself off the floor.

“Let’s start over,” I said, as I pointed the 10mm at him, “who are you and what do you want?”

Styles looked at me for a moment, “I told you who I was, and you have my ID. I was supposed to deliver that briefcase to you and show you how to use it.”

“Who sent you?”

“Some agency guy named Smith. He told me you were here and that you were with some transsexual weirdo that you were trying to protect. He didn’t say anything about the girl.” Styles said nodding toward Stephanie.

I tensed and started to step forward but Stephanie stopped me by placing her hand on my arm. “What exactly did ‘your’ Mr. Smith say?” Stephanie asked with a very pleasant voice and smile.

Styles looked at Stephanie like she had no right to question him but answered anyway. “He said, I was to take this over to Dan and Stephanie and show them how to use it. Now may I ask who you are?”

Stephanie walked towards Styles and gently reached out to touch the bump that was starting to form on his forehead, “I am Stephanie, I am the weirdo. I would suggest, Mr. Styles, that you don’t insult me further, or piss him off further,” nodding towards me, “or you may not be walking out of here.” Stephanie walked past Styles and into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

The look of Styles’ face changed from anger, to surprise, to worried, all in the matter of seconds. I motioned him over to the dining table and had him sit on one of the chairs. “What is this?” I asked, indicating the briefcase.

“An encrypted radio that you are to use to contact Smith.”

“Open it, slowly, and show me.” I sat the briefcase in front of Styles and made sure he saw the 10mm pointed at his head.

Styles opened the clasps on the briefcase and slowly lifted the lid so I could see the contents. On the lid of the case was a large coil of wire and what appeared to be a collapsible antenna. The base portion of the case consisted of a standard telephone handset, a speaker and a number of dials and gauges.

“I need to set the antenna over by a window,” Styles explained, “then we can connect to the secure satellite uplink.”

I nodded and signaled for him to do so. As he was setting up the antenna, Stephanie came out of the bathroom and walked over to me. I could see the redness in her eyes and knew she had been crying. Without taking my eyes off of Styles, I wrapped my left arm around her for a hug. Styles returned to the table and looked at Stephanie. To his credit, it looked like he was trying to figure out how to apologize. However, he turned his attention to the case and turned a switch that brought all the dials to life. There were three LED lights at the top of the case that were glowing red. One by one they switched to green. When the last one turned green, Styles pulled up a retractable microphone and spoke into it.

“Secure link requested, United States Embassy, Philippines, access code “Alpha 1 9 Charlie 0 3 Romeo”

A computer generated voice responded, “Access code validated, secure link established, standby.”

A few moments passed and another voice came out of the speakers, “Embassy switchboard, secure link validated.”

Styles again spoke into the microphone, “Switchboard, encrypted call for Smith and Lattimer.”

“Standby one,” the voice came out of the speaker.

A few more moments of silence passed before a recognizable voice came out of the speaker. “This is Smith, Dan are you there?”

“Yes, I am here.” I responded as I motioned Styles to move away.

“Good, how about Steph, she there?”

“You mean the weirdo?” Steph responded, with ice in her voice and her eyes locked on Styles. Styles lowered his eyes.

A moment pause before Smith responded, “Did I miss something?”

“Only that the embassy may need to new FBI liaison if he opens his mouth again.” I answered. “I am sure Mr. Styles will explain it all when he gets back, especially what happened to his service weapon.”

There was another momentary pause on the phone before Smith spoke, “Okay, I am not sure I want to know what that is about, but we have other issues to deal with right now.

“First off, we found Charkov last night. At 11:45pm an older Antonov AN-12 transport landed at Ninoy Aquino International Airport, and went to the cargo area. The tail numbers on the AN-12 tagged it as having Malaysian registry. Our surveillance not only got pictures of Charkov getting off the plane, but also pictures of three people that were bound with handcuffs and hoods over their heads.”

“More victims?” I asked.

“That is what we are guessing. They were dressed as women and wearing high heels. Reminded me a lot of what Stephanie had described. The scary part was Charkov was met by airport security and three or four members of the Philippine military. From what we could tell no questions were asked concerning passport or about the victims. All of the victims, along with Charkov were loaded into two SUVs and left the airport. The SUVs drove south out of the airport and we were able to track them to Kawit area where we lost them when they entered a long private road.”

“If they are bringing victims here, they can’t be recruiting here.” I commented.

“We’re kind of wondering that ourselves, maybe our encryption boys did not get it completely right. Instead of picking up recruits, maybe they are delivering recruits. If that is true, we might have a training compound here.”

Stephanie had moved up close beside me and I put my arm around her, however, her eyes were still glued to Styles. “OK, so what do we do next?” I asked.

“Nothing right now,” Smith responded. “With the military and possibly some police involved in this we can’t really trust the locals. The Philippines is pretty well known for the level of corruption that can occur here. I have a request back into Washington to do a little covert activity here. Of course the State Department hates the idea, but I already have a team in the area. I need you and Steph to maintain your covers until we are ready to move.”

“You might not want to send anymore bozos around here if that is the case. Mr. Styles thought it best to announce my real name out in the hallway.” I said, staring at Styles, who did not hold eye contact.

“Shit, are you compromised?”

“I don’t think so. There was no one else in the hall, but I have no idea who was behind the various doors.”

Smith was quite for a moment, “Okay, hold on to Styles until I send someone to fetch him. I would like to discuss this with him. Switchboard, break the connection.”

The speaker was quiet for a moment before the computer voice returned, “Secure connection terminated.”

Friday, May 29, 2009
The next two days were a continuation of the adventures of the Adam’s exciting vacation in Manila, which consisted of touring a couple of more malls and lounging by the pool. I decide we were probably going to be totally insane if we had to stay here for the full two weeks.

I, on the other hand, was going insane for a different reason. Stephanie is a beautiful woman and having her in my arms every night, and not being able to satisfy certain carnal urges was almost more than I could manage. She loved sleeping on my shoulder, and to be honest, I loved having her there. When we kissed goodnight, we rarely stopped with one, and almost always graduated into full blown necking, petting and, in some cases, partially undressing. It was starting to become painful, and I needed to find a release somewhere, badly.

There had been no word from Smith over the last two days. Before Styles’ well escorted ride back to the embassy arrived, I’d had him show me how to setup, maintain and operate the encrypted radio. I left it set up on the dining room table and set the antenna away from the window. If a call came in, I only needed to move the antenna and press the answer button. Stephanie and I had just returned to our room from breakfast when the incoming call beep sounded.

“U.S embassy, Manila, switchboard, secure call for Daniel McNeil,” came the voice through the speaker.

“This is McNeil, access code Alpha 1 9 Charlie 0 3 Romeo.”

“Access code confirmed, standby one.”

“Dan,” Smith’s voice came through the speaker a moment later, “is Stephanie there with you?”

“I am here.” Stephanie responded.

“Good, we are going after Charkov tonight and I need both of you there. We are positive there are more victims on site, as well as Charkov, and we need your help with identification and help with the victims. I want you to pack your suitcases but leave them in the room. A car will be sent to pick you up at eight pm. Dress like you are going out to dinner. The car will take you to a staging point where we will have clothes and equipment for you. We will be leaving the country right after the operation, so someone will collected your luggage and deliver it to the plane along with the radio. Have your passports and all your papers on you when you meet the car. Any questions?”

I looked at Stephanie and could tell from her expression she had a lot of questions, just like I did, but we both knew we were not going to get them answered now. “No, we’re good.” I responded.

“Alright, see you tonight. Switchboard, break it down.”

“Embassy switchboard, secure connection terminated.”

A few minutes before eight that evening we received a call from the concierge desk that our car was here. We had packed our suitcases and left them inside the bedroom area of the suite. Steph had all of our documents in her purse as we headed down. As we reached the car, I was startled to see Ryan Sloan, one of Smith’s guys that had been at the barbeque, dressed in a driver’s suit and holding the door open for us. Not wanting to give away that we knew Ryan, both Steph and I politely thanked him as we slid into the car. Ryan’s response was just as formal as he bid us a good evening, as he closed the door behind us.

Ryan walked around the car and got in the driver’s seat and pulled the car away from the hotel entrance. Nothing was said until we passed the hotel security checkpoint and entered the main highway.

“How are you two enjoying the spectacular paradise of Manila?” Ryan asked, glancing at us in his mirror.

“I am not sure ‘spectacular’ or ‘paradise’ would be words that I would use.” I smiled back at his reflection.

Ryan laughed out loud, “No, I suppose not. Anyway, Paula sends her wishes along to the two of you.”

“Paula knows where we are?” Stephanie asked, surprised.

“No,” Ryan smiled, “she knows you are somewhere, and she knows I was going wherever you are, so, she asked me to say ‘Hi’.”

Stephanie gave my hand a slight squeeze and I had to smile to myself, more about how my own mind had been changed over the past year and what I was finding myself exposed to, and accepting as normal now. Stephanie and Ryan maintained a steady conversation, but I found myself staring out the window into the night. I should have been thinking about what was coming, what we were going to encounter tonight, instead, I found my mind wandering back to what I had learned about myself, who I had found, what I discovered about her and how much I was in love with her. Especially after this past week, I could no longer imagine being without her, nor did I have any intention of being without her.

I thought through what the doctors has said in the past about Stephanie getting the operation, and Stephanie’s desire to have the operation. There was still something there that was bothering me, but what that just the cop in me, or the residual of my past bias? I was not sure if my concerns were real, but I knew my desire was. We had not come to Manila for a vacation, though that was what we had for the first week, I discovered someone that really fit in my life, someone I wanted to keep in my life. Being with her seemed so natural and simple whether we were on a tour, eating a meal, or just watching the sunset, and I wanted that feeling to continue. I also knew that with me was where Stephanie wanted to be. In my arms there were no nightmares, no sleepwalking, and no crying in the middle of the night, just peaceful sleep. I had no idea how we were going to be able to live any kind of normal life; I just knew we had to find a way to try.

About forty five minutes after we left the hotel Ryan put on a pair of night vision goggles, but did not pull them down over his eyes. “Okay, guys, things are going to get a little interesting here, no lights of any kind, please.”

Ryan turned off the headlights on the car and pulled the night vision goggles down over his eyes. The loss of the headlights plunged us into darkness with very little relief. Wherever we were, there were no commercial or residential lighting in the area. We could see lights in the distance but the area around us was very dark. Ryan continued to drive through the darkness, making a number of left and right turns. At times, I could make out the shadows of buildings we were passing but that was all. Suddenly the pitch of the engine changed, like we were inside of an echo chamber. Ryan stopped the car and shut off the engine.

“Sit tight, please.” Ryan asked.

I could hear the grind of gears like a garage door was opening or closing but there was a total absence of light. After a moment the grinding noise stopped and a few moments later, the area was illuminated with a deep red light that was coming from pole mounted light fixtures that were mounted around the inside edges of large warehouse. A half a dozen people could be seen moving throughout the warehouse as Ryan reached up to the dome light in the car and removed the bulb.

“Okay,” Ryan said, “you guys can get out now.”

I just reached for the door when it opened ahead of me. “Dan, Steph, hop on out, we have some clothes for you,” I heard Smith’s voice.

Getting out of the car, we followed Smith to a pair of small dressing rooms. Smith pointed me towards one and Stephanie towards the other. Inside the dressing room was a one piece body suit made of a rip-stop, silent brush, black fabric that almost felt like spandex. It had light weight integrated body armor in the chest and back area. Also in the room were a pair of soft soled black boots, baseball style hat, gloves and heavier body armor. I quickly stripped off my dinner clothes and dressed in what was supplied. I stepped out of the dressing room at the same moment that Stephanie did and we kind of looked each other over for a moment.

“Stylish.” Stephanie smiled just as Ryan walked up and handed each of us a suppressed, S&W 10mm automatic with quick release combat holsters.

“What do we need these for?” I asked.

“In case not having them turns out to be a bad idea.” Ryan responded as he turned away.

I thought about it for a moment and silently nodded my head as I understood his meaning. Needing a weapon and not having one, is a whole lot worse than having one and not needing it. We attached the holsters to the shoulder harnesses we were already wearing, checked the pouches for spare clips and then followed Ryan into a general meeting area where over a dozen people were waiting. Everyone in the group was basically dressed in the same one piece suits, and each had various attachments. Most were far more heavily armed than Steph or myself. However, Steph did have the advantage as the only one in the room wearing three inch heeled boots.

As we walked out of the dressing area, I could feel over a dozen sets of eyes looking us over, sizing us up. I had worked with groups like this before and understood the ground rules. Some may have worked together before, but most had not. No one knew anyone’s name, maybe a cover name, but not a real name. Most wore the black balaclava, so most of their facial features were not visible. Though we were all on the same team, often an individual’s ability to survive depended on his ability to remain invisible.

Not knowing what to do, Stephanie and I walked over to an area that had an easel set up with what appeared to be a handmade drawings of a house. I studied the drawing for a few minutes before understanding what I was seeing. The outsides were drawn with pretty good detail, showing doors and windows, outside obstacles and landscaping. The inside was drawn in much less detail, that I could tell were estimates. This was the surveillance drawing created by some members of the team. The outside could be easily seen so was drawn clearly, the inside had to be estimated, based on what could be seen through windows. This was the closest knowledge we were going to have about the layout when we hit the building.

Ryan brought us a couple of cups of coffee and we continued to mill around the drawing area for another hour or so. Finally Smith appeared from a room in the back and walked over to us.

“You two ready to do this?” Smith asked as he approached.

“As ready as we are going to get.” I responded.

“Okay, then let’s get it done.” He turned to Ryan, “Round up the team.”

Ryan walked around the warehouse talking to each of the groups, who stopped what they were doing and walked towards us, forming a half circle around the drawing.

“These are our principals.” Smith announced, after everyone gathered, “Mark and Carol Adams. Their job is to help identify the people we pull out of there tonight. They will be staying in the rear of the activity and will function in a support role only. Their call sign will be Blue Ten, as they will be with me. Any questions?”

After a few moments of silence Smith spoke again, “Okay, we have been over the plan dozens of times and everyone knows the rules. Remember, though we are going in hot tonight, our goal is no causalities. I want to be able to talk to everyone that comes out of that house. Don’t risk yourself or your team, but remember the live body count scores the free beer this time.”

There were some random chuckles and various jokes cracked, but everyone dispersed to their own duties within the warehouse. Smith and Ryan approached Stephanie and me. The first thing Smith did was point at the 10mm in the shoulder holster that Stephanie was wearing.

“You know how to use that thing?” he asked with a partial smile.

“Well, not according to him,” she smiled back at Smith while indicating me, “but I know how to make loud noises with it and scare anything close.”

Smith’s smile opened even larger, “That’s what I was afraid of. Just remember, that is for an emergency only. Here are a couple ear bud radios; Ryan will help you set them up. The house is about fifteen minutes from here and you two will be riding with Ryan and me. We are going to let the Snake Eaters go in first, then we will follow. Now, I need to warn both of you, we are working totally ‘black’ here. We do not have support of the Philippine government for this operation so we need to be in and out fast and out of the country as quickly as we can.”

“How are we going to do that, and what happens if we get caught?” I had to ask.

“We have a U.S. Senior Diplomatic jet waiting for us, kind of a junior version of Air Force One. If we can get to that, there will be no problem getting out of the country. If anyone gets caught before that,” Smith paused with a large smile, “it’s going to be on CNN for a long time.”

I was about to ask a few more questions about that part when a voice came over the radio in my ear. “Okay, everyone, lights out in sixty seconds. Everyone mount up.”

Smith nodded to Ryan and turned and walked away from us. Ryan escorted us to a four door SUV type vehicle and Stephanie and I got in the back seats. Ryan got in the driver’s
seat and started the engine. A few moments later the passenger door opened and Smith entered. About a second after that, the room went totally dark as the red lights went out. I could hear the sound of engines starting all over the warehouse, but no lights were turned on. Suddenly, we started moving and I assumed Ryan was using the night vision goggles as before.

There was a lot of chatter over the radio as all of the groups got organized and ordered for exiting the warehouse. There were six units involved, the primary assault teams were call signed Blue one through Blue five. We were called Blue ten and were the last ones to leave the warehouse. As Ryan pulled the SUV out of the warehouse, I felt Stephanie slide closer to me in the seat and wrap her arm tightly around mine. I could feel her shaking so I pulled my arm from her and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her close to me.

“You okay?” I whispered in her ear.

“Yes, I mean, no, I mean, I’m scared, Dan.” She whispered back.

I gave her a reassuring squeeze. “’We are all here to protect you, Steph. Especially me, I love you and will not let anything happen to you.”

Stephanie laid her head on my shoulder, “I know Dan, and I love you too. But you can’t protect me from the demons that I may have to face tonight, that we may have to face tonight.”

Stephanie paused for a moment, “This isn’t just about protecting me from people with guns, Darling. This is coming face to face with what I have gone through, the things that I have done, or had done to me. Not only will I have to face them, but so will you.” She softly stroked my face with her hand, “I know you are brave enough to face death for me, I hope you are strong enough to walk through Hell with me too.”

I reached to touch her face in the darkness and could feel the moisture on her cheeks and knew her tears were flowing. I found her lips with my thumb and brought mine to them. I have kissed Stephanie many times, but there was something in the touch of her lips and the tenderness in her hands, a yearning, a need, that I am not sure I had ever felt before. All I want to do was pull her to me, wrap her in my arms and tell the rest of the world to go away.

The Princess of the Desert

By Melodie Thomas

Edited by Holly Hart

Chapter 12

Saturday, May 30, 2009
The fifteen minute drive went quickly and soon Ryan parked the SUV along the side of a road in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere. It was a moonless night, but we were far enough from any city that the stars blanketed the sky and gave everything on the ground an eerie shadow. We had been without any form of light for the last fifteen minutes, so my night vision was pretty good. In the distance, maybe three to four hundred yards, sat a house at the end of a long drive, which was pretty much by itself. There were some lights on in various windows, but for the most part the area was dark. The shadows around the house showed a couple of outbuildings that could have been storage sheds or something similar.

The radio traffic was light, rapid and to the point as each of the assault units moved into position and reported ready. Smith was coordinating the activity from our vehicle, and once everyone reported as ready, he started a timer on his watch. All units were to sit still, in position, for one hour without moving. From past experience, I knew this was normal procedure, first you get in position, and then you watch for a while to make sure nothing has changed or surprises have occurred, then you move into action. Radio silence was the order, unless something happened that could impact the mission.

“Blue Leader, Blue three.” The radio in my ear crackled after thirty minutes of silence.

“Go Blue three.” I heard Smith answer, both from the front seat and in the ear bud.

“Three Tangos just left the back door of the house, heading towards one of the outbuildings. We are going to move on the outbuilding and see what is going on.”

“Roger, Blue three, stay covert, we are still weapons safe.” Smith responded.

There was a single ‘click’ in the radio which was an acknowledgement from Blue three and no other sound. For the next ten minutes, no sounds were made either in the SUV or on the radio.

“Blue leader, Blue three.”

“Go Blue Three.”

“The outbuilding is a holding cell. There were five vics locked in it. The Tangos took two of the Vics back to the main house. We have eyes on the remaining Vics, request permission to secure.”

“Negative Blue Three,” Smith responded, “mark the vics, but do not engage. All teams, give me a sit-rep, we go in five.”

The remaining teams all reported ready. Smith started a countdown timer on his watch. “Blue Three, secure the back of the house, no one approaches the remaining Vics. On my mark we go in sixty seconds. Four, three, two, one, mark, all teams are weapons free, repeat all teams are weapons free.”

I was watching the second hand on my watch sweep through the sixty seconds, wondering what would happen at the end of it, and why it was moving so slowly at the same time. Stephanie could not get any closer to me and I could feel her whole body shaking, almost like she was cold. I almost wanted to count out loud as my watch got to the last five seconds. When my watch hit zero, I felt like I was supposed to brace or something, but nothing happened. Suddenly there were a couple of loud pops and bright flashes of light coming from the house and the radio came back to life.

“Front door breached, flash bangs in.”

“Blue four, inside”

“Blue Two, Inside”

“Blue One inside and clear.”

“Blue five, taking fire, rear bedroom.”

In the distance, we could hear the sound of gunfire, but it was much suppressed. About ninety seconds passed from the initial reports.

“Blue leader, Blue one. House secure, two tangos down, three tangos and two vics in custody.”

“Roger Blue One,” Smith responded, “Blue three, secure the remaining vics.” Smith turned to Ryan, “Let’s go.”

Ryan started the car and pulled into the driveway. We were almost to the house when loud, unsuppressed gunfire shattered the silence of the night.

“Blue Leader!!” a excited voice came over the radio, “Victims are hostile, repeat, victims are hostile.”

“Blue One, Blue Three, dart your vics,” Smith responded, with an elevated voice.

All of the assault teams carried compressed air dart guns, loaded with tranquilizers. There had been a concern that any victims recovered might be in an uncontrollable state, and we did not have the experts along to deal with them. Now, there was also a concern that someone heard the gunfire and company would be coming. Sleeping people were easier to move than awake and resistive ones.

Ryan stopped the car, quickly, at the front of the house. One of the assault team members was at the front door holding it open as we exited the car. I could hear the radio announcement that we were coming into the building. Ryan and Smith led the way through the door and into the main living area. The first thing noticed were three men, sitting in chairs with hoods over their heads, and hands bound behind them. Two assault team members came into the room from a back hallway, each carrying a woman that appeared to be naked and wrapped in a blanket. The women were taken toward the front door and gently laid on the floor. Stephanie glanced at the faces of the women on our way past, but gave no indication of recognition.

We continued toward the three men and stopped about ten feet in front of them. Smith gave a nod to the guards and the hoods were pulled off of all three men. All three blinked rapidly and the sudden change in light. Stephanie locked in on the man on the left end and started walking towards him, pulling me along by the hand. The man looked up at us, as his eyes focused, and smiled broadly.

“Hello, little Stephie,” he said, with a heavy accent and a big smile, “I always knew you were one tough bitch, but you surprised even me.”

Stephanie did not respond, she just walked up to about three feet in front of Charkov and stopped, with me on her left side. Charkov’s eyes shifted from Stephanie to me.

Charkov glanced at the shoulder holster that Stephanie was wearing, “I see they give you toys to play with, have you not told them you don’t need toys, or that you prefer a different kind of toy?”

Again, Stephanie did not respond, she just stood there staring at the man.

“Agent McNeil, it is a pleasure to meet you.” Charkov continued with the same big smile, “I hear that you like the toy we made. She is quite something, don’t you think? You have tried her out, no?”

Charkov held his smile but I did not respond. His facial expressions change to a fake surprised look. “You mean you have not tried out this toy? I can’t believe that, McNeil, you don’t know what you are missing.” Charkov started laughing. “This little bitch can pull a whole football team and not slow down, I have seen it. I have probably ridden her a hundred times myself; no ride at Disneyland can match her.”

I felt my face turning red and the anger boiling within me as Charkov continued to laugh and gloat. I knew he was trying to get under my skin, and it was working. I don’t think I moved but Stephanie must have sensed something as I felt her grip on my hand tighten.

“She really likes it rough and kinky,” Charkov continued, his laugh getting louder, “You should see her when we would bring in a dog. This little bitch would start howling like she was in heat.”

Charkov returned is gaze to Stephanie, “You haven’t told him about that Stephie? How that dog would mount up and you would just howl..."

Even though I was standing right beside Stephanie, holding her hand, there was no indication of what happened next. I felt no change in balance, no tensing, no movement what so ever. Stephanie’s right leg shot out like a Cobra strike, with a speed that was barely visible, and the toe of her boot caught Charkov under the tip of his chin. The impact drove his lower jaw into his upper jaw with enough force to cause a cracking sound and blood sprayed from biting through either his tongue or his lip. His head recoiled from the impact, hard enough to break the top slat in the high back chair he was sitting in. Charkov’s head bounced forward to where his jaw nearly touched his chest, with another spraying of blood and pieces of white that I recognized as teeth. Stephanie’s foot was already back on the floor, again with no body movement or balance adjustment.

“Whoa, score!” one of the assault team announced from behind us.

Stephanie turned away from Charkov, pulling me along with her, as she walked up to Smith. “Mr. Smith, I am assuming you will take care of the garbage?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Smith responded with a smile.

A group of the assault team members were just coming through the back of the house carrying three other victims. One was obviously dead from the blood soaked blanket wrapped around her. The other two were unconscious and in a fireman’s carry. Stephanie released my hand and walked over to the new arrivals. She took a moment to look at all three then shook her head indicating she did not know any of them as she walked back to me.

“Okay,” Smith spoke and pointed at Ryan, “Get Mike and Carol out of here and to the plane. The rest of you, get the cars around here and load up our guests. I want this place bleached and us out of here in fifteen minutes.”

We followed Ryan out the front door and back to the car. As we drove away, Stephanie did not sit close to me; she had slid over to the opposite door and stared out the window into the darkness. Ryan drove with the night vision goggles and the ride was completely silent, no one spoke. I kept playing the kick that Stephanie delivered to Charkov over and over in my mind. It might have been a fluke, but the execution was flawless. Any martial arts master would be proud of that kick, no wasted body movement, no telegraphing, nothing. That type of execution takes years to learn and perfect. Was that just an accident, or was there something else inside of Stephanie that we’d just gotten a glimpse of?

I also could not get my mind off of the scenes that Charkov was describing. My imagination was running wild and I visualized what he was saying. How could the beautiful girl sitting next to me, the one that was in my arms each night, how could she have done those things. The way he described them, Charkov made it sound like she was a willing participant, but I knew that was not true, or did I know that? Now I caught myself second guessing Stephanie. Were these some of the demons she warned me about?

Ryan drove back to the warehouse where we changed back into our evening clothes and stuffed the equipment into a fifty five gallon drum outside of the dressing rooms. Ryan did not explain what was going to happen to it, just told us to put our stuff there. Within fifteen minutes we were back in the car and after about another fifteen minutes, Ryan turned the headlights on as we merged into traffic on one of the main highways for the forty five minute drive to the airport. As we approached the security gate at one of the side entrances, Ryan flashed his headlights one time and the gate opened without us stopping. I guess the bad guys are not the only ones that can buy allies. Ryan pulled the car up to a Boeing 747 with a U.S. flag on the tail and no other markings that I could see. We all exited the car and Ryan handed the keys to another man, who looked to be Filipino, which got in the car and drove it away as we climbed the stairs into the plane.

We entered the plane through the forward galley area that is standard on most 747s. However that was the only thing about this plane that was familiar. The compartment forward of the galley, the area normally reserved for First Class, was closed off by a wooden door. In the main body of the aircraft, the first area was a large conference table with ten fairly plush chairs bolted to the floor around it. After the table were twenty or so standard first class airline seats arranged two per side, with a table mounted between each pair. About two thirds of the way down the plane, another wall with a single door could be seen. Ryan opened the door to what would have been the first class area and indicated that Steph and I should to enter.

Entering the forward part of the plane was quite a surprise; it looked like a small apartment. Tucked against the bulk head, at the very front of the plane was a queen sized bed. The bed was isolated from the rest of the compartment by a wardrobe closet on one side and an airplane bathroom on the other. The main part of the compartment consisted of a couch, two plush chairs, a coffee table and two floor lamps. Sitting on the floor next to the couch was our luggage. Stephanie led the way into the room with me following. Ryan closed the door behind me, leaving Steph and me alone. She walked over and grabbed her smaller travel bag off of the luggage pile and went into the bathroom, while I found one of the plush chairs and more or less fell into it.

I leaned my head back in the chair and closed my eyes, trying to relieve some of the anxiety and pain that I was feeling. The images in my mind were still there, and I was fighting with them. I just could not get my mind wrapped around the fact the woman that had been sleeping in my arms for the past week, the woman that I was no doubt in love with, had been part of that, and maybe even willingly. It just was not coming clear to me. It was giving me a headache and a very hollow feeling in my chest. I didn’t want any of it to be true, but I knew that some of it was. More than anything, I wanted to be assured, somehow, that Stephanie had been forced into it.

I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I lost track of time and failed to notice that Stephanie had not returned from the bathroom. I was jarred back to reality by a loud thump coming from the forward bathroom.

“Steph, you okay?”

When she didn’t answer, I stood and walked to the bathroom door. “Steph?” I called, lightly tapping on the door.

With no answer, I placed my ear to the door and could hear the sound of sobbing. “Steph, please open the door.”

Again, no response from within, I stepped back and studied the bathroom door to see if it was a standard airplane door, which it was. I pulled the penknife out of my pocket, inserted the blade under the ‘Lavatory’ sign, and popped it off the tape holding it in place, which exposed the locking handle for the door. I unlocked the door, pushed on the center bi-fold, and slowly opened the door. Stephanie was sitting on the floor with her back against the wall. Her left hand was lying on her lap with the palm up and the back of her right hand was supporting her forehead as her head leaned forward. There was a piece of metal in the fingers of her right hand, and from the scattered pieces of plastic on the floor, I knew it was a razor blade from a safety razor.

“Steph?” I asked cautiously, as I knelt beside her. I slowly reached over to take the razor from her, which she let go of without an issue.

“I am such a worthless coward,” Stephanie whispered, “I can’t face you, I can’t face myself and I can’t even kill myself.”

I tossed the razor into the trash container and tried to pull Stephanie into my arms. She resisted and remained pushed against the wall.

“Why do you want me? How can you stand to look at me?” Her whisper cracked. Though I could not see her face I knew that tears were flowing.

“Stephanie, I love you and you know that.”

“Why?” she almost screamed as she slammed her head back into the wall, “I did all that, Dan. Everything Charkov said, I did! It’s all true. How could you love a piece of trash like me?” Her tears were flowing at full force.

I pause for a moment, not sure I wanted to ask, “Did you do it willingly Steph, or were you forced to do it?”

“I don’t know, God Damn it, I don’t know!” She screamed as she rocked her head forward and then slammed it back toward the wall. This time I got my hand between her head and the wall.

The door to the room opened quickly as Ryan charged in. He stopped and looked at me; I shook my head for him not to come in. He backed slowly out the door and closed in behind him.

Though my left hand hurt like hell, being smashed between Stephanie’s head and the wall, I used it to pull her head towards me. This time she let her back slide until her head was on my shoulder.

“Steph, you warned me we had to fight these demons. You said we had to fight them together, hand in hand, you warned me.” I could feel the tears forming in my own eyes. “We have to walk through hell together, girl. Stay with me, please, I don’t want to do this alone either.”

Stephanie reached her left hand around my head and pulled it tighter to hers. Her crying became full out hard sobbing as I could feel her body shaking with each breath. There was no more talking or even trying to talk, as her whole being was trying to wash the pain way with tears. I was having difficulty controlling my own tears, as if for the first time, I could truly begin to understand the terror she had gone through. I twisted around to get on my knees. She wrapped both of her arms around my neck as her tears remained at full force. I pulled her full body up into my arms and struggled to stand in the small compartment. I backed out of the bathroom, and carried Stephanie over to the couch. Instead of lying her on the couch, I sat down and continued to cradle her in my arms with her face buried in my neck as her body continued to be racked with sobs.

Stephanie cried herself out after about twenty minutes and neither of us moved during that time. The only thing I could think of doing was to hold her, so that is what I did. When her sobbing started to subside into sniffles, the whole front of my shirt was wet nearly to my belt, but she did not act like she wanted to move and I didn’t want to let go. We continued to sit there for another twenty to thirty minutes with neither of us moving or speaking.

“I have no idea how I can ever repay you for what you have done for me.” came a soft voice from my neck.

I had no idea what to say so I didn’t even try, I just held her a little tighter in acknowledgement.

“I would have never lived through this if it weren’t for you.” Stephanie continued. “I fell in love with you the minute I laid eyes on you and I have no idea why. I never wanted to be a girl, Dan. I never asked for any of this, I never wanted any of this, and I will never understand why I had to go through it.”

Stephanie paused for a moment, “I will also never understand how ending up in your arms seems to be the most natural place for me to be, and why I crave being there so much, but I do, and I never want to leave these arms.”

For some reason, that sentiment I understood, there was no place else I wanted her to be, except where she was now. I wanted the pain to go away, but the girl to stay. This was where she belonged, and this was where I wanted to keep her. I still had no idea how to accomplish the dream, or how to make the demons go away, but there was no doubt I was going to try and I was never letting go.

There was a soft knock and the door started to open. Mr. Smith looked through the opening and saw us sitting on the couch. He raised his hand in acknowledgement and started to close the door.

“It’s okay, Mr. Smith,” Stephanie said, again without moving. “Please come in.”

Smith paused and looked at me and I nodded. Closing the door behind him, Smith sat in one of chairs opposite us. Stephanie lifted her head from my neck, kissed me softly on the cheek, stood and straightened out her dress, then sat beside me.

“I am sorry for my appearance,” Stephanie said, “but this has not been one of my better nights.”

Smith gave a half smile, “No a problem, I was worried about how you would manage tonight.”

Stephanie smiled and took my hand, “It was tough, but I have a rock to lean on. What did you come to tell us?”

Before Smith could speak, I felt the plane start to move. “We are leaving here now and are going to Hickam Air force base in Hawaii, where we will refuel. From there, we are headed to DC. We have our friends onboard and I would prefer you did not interface with them until we get into a better environment.”

Stephanie nodded her head, “Actually, I would just as soon to avoid that for right now.”

“Good,” Smith answered, “Three of our victims are fine, just asleep, one is wounded, but will be okay, and the other, unfortunately, didn’t make it. We will try to get more information on them by the time we reach D.C.. Mr. Charkov, seemed to have a small accident on the stairs and has a fractured jaw and three broken teeth. We will get him medical attention at our first ‘convenient’ opportunity. I would like you two to stay in here in your cabin until we reach Hawaii, then we will move you to a different flight, probably commercial, for the trip back.”

Smith paused, as if he was expecting a comment, but did not get one. “I have asked the Vasnevs to meet us in D.C.. We need their help with the victims.”

“Does that mean you have cleared Ivan?” I asked.

“No, not completely, but we need their help, and we will be watching the situation closely.”

The flight from Manila to Hawaii was just over 9 hours and Stephanie slept the majority of the time. Ryan brought us some food from the galley after Smith left and shortly after eating, I put Stephanie to bed. That night she acted as if she could not get close enough to me, and to be honest, I did not feel like could hold her close enough. I woke up about two hours out of Hawaii with Stephanie still tightly wrapped around me. With some careful planning, I was able to untangle myself from her and ease my way out of bed without waking her. I closed the privacy curtain to minimize the chance of disturbing her before turning on one of the room lamps. After dressing, I slipped out of the room into the galley to see if I could find some coffee.

“How is she?” Ryan asked from one of the chairs at the table next to the galley. He was positioned so he could see the main cabin area as well as the door to our room.

“I’m not sure. Sleeping right now.”

Ryan nodded his head and pointed at a canister attached to the wall in the kitchen. I grabbed a cup and filled it, taking a seat next to him.

“I can’t imagine how tough that has to be on her,” Ryan said, “From what Paula has told me, she has been through hell.”

I was a little surprise that Paula had been telling him about Steph, but I just nodded as I sipped the coffee. “Yeah, it has been a pretty rough road the last eight months or so.”

We sat silently for a few minutes and I decided to broach the question, “Ryan, you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

Ryan smiled into his coffee, “Yeah, I already know about Paula, if that is what was on your mind.”

I felt kind of embarrassed, “That was what I had in mind. Do you mind if I ask…”

Ryan started before I could finish, “I am not really sure how I feel about it. I found out on a date after the barbeque at your place. Paula was honest with me and told me up front. She was scared to death doing so and I was pretty shocked. However, by then I had already decided that I liked her, but it was a shock.”

We were both quiet for a moment before Ryan continued, “We have been out once after she told me, and to be honest, I have a great time with her. I don’t know what else to say. How about you?”

I chuckled, “Obviously, I have known from the beginning, but something happened, something between us. Now I will openly admit that I am in love with her. I know she was not born a girl, but I have never known her as anything but. I guess I know what I want, just don’t know how to get there, and honestly, not a lot of people want to talk to about it.”

“Well, I would be happy to be your sounding board, as it looks like I am kind of heading down the same path, though my path is a lot different than yours.”

Ryan and I sat there at talked about Paula and Stephanie for about forty five minutes, or until I got nervous about leaving Stephanie alone. I excused myself and entered our room, only to find Stephanie still sound asleep. I’d had enough coffee that I need to use the restroom, so I quietly closed the door and took care of business. As I was starting to leave the restroom, I spotted Stephanie’s travel bag and could not overcome the urge to look. Opening her bag I found the normal assortment of girl things, but I also found a large brown pill bottle with no label. Carefully removing the bottle from her bag, I opened the lid. The bottle was about half-full of various different kinds of pills. I dumped some out in my hand and counted at least ten different kinds of pills. I stood there for a couple of minutes and finally decided I needed to find out what these pills were. Without labels, the only think I could think of was to take some of them and see if I could get them identified by someone, maybe Paula. I sorted out the pills, setting one of each kind on the counter and ended up with eleven different pills based on shape and color. I returned the rest to the bottle and put the bottle back in Stephanie’s bag. I didn’t have anything to put the loose pills in, so I brushed them into my hand, exited the bathroom and then the room to return to Ryan. I found a plastic bag in the galley and gave the pill collection to Ryan, asking him to get them to Paula as soon as he could, and to keep it quiet.

By the time we touched down at Hickam, Stephanie was dressed in shorts, blouse and sandals. She had her hair in a ponytail, perfect makeup and that radiant smile that had mesmerized me months before. The jet was parked outside of a large hanger and Stephanie and I were escorted to a waiting car for the drive around the complex to the Honolulu International airport terminals. Before we landed, I had a discussion with Smith concerning Stephanie being needed in D.C. right away. I explained to him that I was concerned about how she’d handled the confrontation in Manila and told him I really wanted to disappear for a couple of days and make sure she was ready to face it again. Though he was not really happy about not having cover on us, he agreed to the need if we would continue to use out Adams cover, since he was the only one that knew about it.

We were dropped off at the departure terminal with a flight itinerary departing later that afternoon. We immediately made our way back to the ticketing area where I had the itinerary changed to depart a few days later. At the bank of hotel reservation phones, it only took a couple of attempts before I was able to reserve a fairly quiet bungalow on the north shore of the main island. The final stop was the Hertz car rental counter.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009
The next two days were very restful and relaxing. Stephanie seemed to be back to her normal self, and we spent quite a bit of time on the beach and just talking. We talked about what she could or could not remember, she told me in great, and painful, detail about the events that Charkov described. Each story came with a huge amount of tears, pain and embarrassment, but Stephanie insisted that she had to tell me so I knew the truth. After the first couple of days, it was as if a load had been lifted off her. She said she had told me her worst and I still held her at night. The pain that I felt with each telling was horrific, but at least my imagination was put to rest, as she told me about the beatings, the drugs and the torture that she had to endure through each experience. No, Stephanie had not been a willing participant, and anyone would have done as she did to survive, to end the pain, the suffering.

I had received no word of what was going in in D.C. or from Paula on the medication I’d sent with Ryan, but honestly was not expecting o. The only person that knew where we were was Smith, and unless he traced the credit card, he didn’t even know what island we were on.

The bungalow that we were renting was actually a couple of blocks from the beach, and set in a ways from any main road. We saw very few people walking around and even less traffic on the access road.

Stephanie and I were sitting in the living area enjoying our morning coffee and talking about the day ahead. She took a sip of her coffee, “What time is our flight in the morning?” almost a hint of sadness in her voice.

“The flight leaves at eleven in the morning, we will need to leave here about eight. You okay?”

Steph smiled, “Yes, I am fine. I just enjoyed these couple of days and don’t want them to end.”

I returned the smile, “Yeah, me too. We will just have to do it again. Maybe with a little less stress involved.”

The sound of a vehicle surprised both of us. I stood and stepped to the window, looking through the slatted blinds. I was even more surprised to see a UPS truck pull up in front of the Bungalow and a very striking blonde exit the truck and start walking towards the front door. I felt all of my senses go on high alert as no one should be delivering anything here, unless they had the wrong address. I started to step away from the window, when I felt Stephanie slip up beside me.

She glanced out the window and instantly recoiled away from the window, pulling me with her. “Dan,” she said in an urgent whisper, “That is one of the girls. I recognize her!”

I am sure the stunned look on Steph’s face matched the one I had, as we both stood there, not moving as we heard the knock on the door. I motioned Steph to move to the hinge side of the door as I flattened myself against the wall on the opening side. Again, we did not have a weapon with us and I had no idea if the girl was armed or not, but had to assume she was.

“UPS, delivery,” came the announcement through the door with a second knock.

Neither Steph nor I moved and a few moments later I could hear the rattling of the door and a sliding of the bolt as the lock was picked, the door started to slowly open. The first thing I saw coming through the door was the barrel of a Ruger .22 caliber semiautomatic with a silencer attached. I held tight against the wall as the door continued to open and more of the hand and arm could be seen as she slowly entered the room. As soon as I could see the elbow of her gun hand, I made my move by grabbing for her wrist. It was almost as if she knew what was coming, for I no more than started my grab when the gun withdrew from the room and her right fist shot around the corner, catching me in the chest with enough force to drive me back a step and almost knock the wind out of me. Before I could recover my balance, the blonde was through the door and had the Ruger leveled at my head, only a few feet away.

I saw her trigger finger starting to tense, when her right leg collapsed sideways as Stephanie delivered a powerful roundhouse kick to her knee. The automatic fired as she fell and the bullet passed a foot or so above my head. Even through her right leg had to be broken; the blonde maintained enough control to rotate herself during her fall, landing on her back, with the gun now pointed in Stephanie’s direction. After Stephanie delivered the kick to the knee, she planted her right foot back on the floor and continued a full backward crouching spin, with her left leg extended, catching the blonde in the forearm of her gun hand. The impact of the second kick was enough to dislodge the gun and send it sliding in my direction.

The blonde reacted immediately, spinning on her back, swinging her left leg at Stephanie’s leg while reaching for the gun with her right hand. Stephanie performed an amazing aerial maneuver by jumping from a crouched position, over the top of the blonde, and rotating from face down to face up while in the air, landing back first on the blonde driving her left elbow into the blonde’s forehead. I could hear the smack of the elbow hitting the forehead, and the hard thud as the blonde’s head bounced off of the floor. The blonde’s body went completely slack, and stopped moving. The entire fight was over before I could reach down and pick up the gun that was lying at my feet.

Stephanie was on her feet and closing the front door, while I picked up the gun and moved to the blond. I could tell at a glance that her right leg was broken. Checking her pulse verified she was alive, just unconscious. I stood and looked at Stephanie for a moment.

“Where did you learn to do that?” I asked, in complete shock.

Stephanie looked at me for a moment, “I honestly don’t have a clue. It was all reaction, I never thought about it.”

I stood and looked at her for a couple seconds, not sure what to say or do next, before my brain was able to re-engage with the situation around me. “We need to find something to tie her up with.”

“There are some plastic tie wraps in the kitchen.” Stephanie said as she started walking that way, “How did they know where to find us?”

“Smith was the only one that even had an idea where we were,” I said as I started looking through the pockets of the blonde, “and even he did not know the details.”

Stephanie suddenly stopped in mid step and turned back to me. “No, Dan, he wasn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dan, I’m sorry, I call Vivian the first day we got here.”

I guess my shocked look was enough to make her nervous.

“I needed to talk to her about what happened in the plane, with the razor and stuff.” I could see the anxiousness in her eyes.

“Where did you call her from?”

“Here, in the room, while you were out exploring the back.”

“So, she would have gotten the number off of caller ID and from there it would not have taken much to figure out where we were. Get those tie wraps, I need to call Smith.”

Fifteen minutes later we had the blonde’s hands bound behind her back and I had Smith on the phone. I explained to him what happened along with the fact that the Vasnevs could have known where we were.

Smith was silent for a few moments, “Okay, shit. Are you two safe right now?”

“I think so.” I responded.

“Okay, I am going to make a few phone calls and get someone to get you out of there. Probably a military transport to get you back here and bring our new girl with you. Okay?”

“Alright, but we will need some medical help traveling with us, her leg is busted up pretty bad.”

“I will take care of it.” Smith responded, “That girl of yours is just full of surprises, isn’t she?”

I was watching Stephanie as she sat and looked at the blond; I was thinking the same thing. “I think that’s an understatement.”

I hung up the phone and just sat there watching Stephanie. She turned and looked at me, raising her eyebrows in question. “Help is on the way, better get packed.”

She nodded and started to stand, “I am sorry I didn’t tell you about the call, Dan. I just needed to talk to her, I felt I had too.”

“It’s okay; we will get past it, but please tell me those things going forward. I am not sure I would have done anything different, but it would have been nice to know.”

Stephanie nodded, looking at the floor and walked off to the bedroom to start packing. I just sat there watching the blonde, letting my mind run. How had Stephanie learned how to fight like that? Nothing had ever been mentioned in any of her sessions, dreams or memories. Why had she felt ‘compelled’ to call Vivian after returning from Manila? She had not had a desire to talk to either of the Vasnevs for a couple of weeks, why now? I just could not get the feeling out of my mind there was more going on here than I understood, and I was pretty sure I was only seeing the tip of the iceberg.

A half hour later, Stephanie had both of our bags packed and I hauled them out to the living area. The blonde was still unconscious and we still had not heard from anyone concerning help. Stephanie had gone back to the restroom while I watched out the front windows. I heard a moan come from the blonde, turning I saw her looking at me with a great deal of pain showing on her face.

“Your leg is broken,” I said, “and I am sorry that I don’t have anything to help you with that right now. Someone should be here soon.”

The girl just sat there looking at me, without another sound. Then I heard Stephanie’s voice from behind me.

“Hello, April.”

The girl turned her gaze from me to Stephanie and the look on her face went from passive to total surprise. “Stephanie?” the blonde girl asked with a strained but surprised voice. “We were told you were dead.”

Stephanie walked over to a chair in front of April and sat down. “Not yet, April, but Mistress Anne keeps trying.”

“Stephanie, I didn’t know you were here, I was not told.”

“What were you told, April?”

“I was told there was a man and a woman here, I was to kill the man and leave the woman.”

“Why leave the woman alive?” I asked, stepping away from the window.

April just turned and looked at me with a blank stare and did not answer.

“Darling,” Stephanie said, “She was ordered to leave me alive because none of ‘us’ girls are allowed to kill each other. It would have violated her programing.”

Being a little slow on the uptake, I looked at Stephanie, “I don’t understand.”

Stephanie looked at me with a smile. “None of the girls are allowed to kill each other. That means, my love, that April here was to leave me alive, wounded maybe, but alive. That also means someone else is going to come in behind her to deal with me. There is someone else either coming, or already here.”

I stood there, frozen, for a moment while what I just heard sank in. Finally, my mind engaged and I rushed back the window, but could not see what I wanted from here. I ran to the bedroom, hoping the angle would be better. Looking out the window what I saw made my heart skip; the back of the UPS truck was open. They were already here.

I ran back into the living area, “Who was in the back of the truck?” I questioned April.

She just looked at me with blank eyes.

I pointed the Ruger at her, “Who was in the back of the truck?” I asked with a lot more force.

“That won’t help, Dan.” Stephanie turned to April, “April, it is okay to talk to Dan, he is a friend.”

April started babbling like a plug had been released from a bottle, “I don’t know who was back there, I was told not to look back there or go back there. I was just told to come here and kill you.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the glimpse of something bright reflecting off one of the table lamps. It was just a red flicker, but it was enough to launch the reaction portion of my brain. I dove for Stephanie, knocking her and the chair she was sitting in, sideways and to the floor. The instant we hit the floor, the sound of shattering glass filled the room followed by the muffled popping sound of a suppressed automatic weapon. The room became a calamity of noise as the bullets started striking and bouncing around the room. I smashed Stephanie to the floor beneath me as I tried to squeeze both of us behind the overturned chair. The burst probably only lasted seconds, but felt like hours, before silence once again took over.

I peeked over the side of the chair, the Ruger leading the way, pointing at the window, it was empty, the door was still closed, and what I could see of the bedroom window was also empty. The room was a shattered mess with broken glass, torn fabric and sheetrock dust everywhere. I looked at April and saw three growing red spots on her chest and blood soaked blond hair. I felt a momentary touch of guilt, but there was nothing I could have done. I felt Stephanie move beneath me.

“Are you okay?” I asked without looking down.

“I’m okay, where are they?”

“I don’t know.”

At that moment my ears registered a new sound, the steady thump, thump, thump, of an approaching helicopter. My mind was racing through the situation, if the gunman had been here all along, why wait so long to attack. What were they doing? Suddenly the answer hit me in the form of sheer panic, I grabbed Stephanie’s arm and pulled her to her feet.

“We have to get out of here!” I said, not even trying to disguise the panic in my voice.

I pulled Stephanie to the front door and pulled the door open. I quickly stuck my head out the door and pulled it back to see if anyone would shoot, but no shots came. The sound of the helicopter was getting closer, almost sounded like it was behind the bungalow. The UPS truck was just in front of the bungalow and I knew we had to get to the other side.

“Run!” I screamed at Stephanie at the same time as I pulled her and made a dash for the truck.

I reached the front corner of the truck in a half a dozen strides, stopped and pulled Stephanie around the corner of the truck and then pushed her further toward the back. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a Blackhawk helicopter beginning to flare into a hover about fifty yards from the bungalow, with someone throwing coils of ropes out the side door. Stephanie stumbled due to the uneven ground and her high heels, falling forward beside the shrubs that lined the driveway. The instant she fell, the glass of the side window of the truck exploded into fragments, followed by the pinging of metal as bullets tore through the side of the truck where she had been standing. I dove to the ground beside her and the bullets continued to tear up the side of the truck.

Just as I hit the ground next to Stephanie, the ground moved as a deafening explosion rocked the world, forcing a hot air blast to pass under the truck and engulf us in a barrage of rocks a debris. The UPS truck bounced a foot closer to us and tipped as it started to roll over. The air blast under the truck shoved me into Stephanie, pushing her deeper into the shrubs. The UPS truck tipped on two wheels and seemed to pause there for a moment, before dropping back down on all four tires. Flames were coming out of the cab of the truck and I could see the grease and oil under the truck start to catch fire.

As the blast receded, the flames under the truck started to increase in intensity. The only thing I could hear was a loud ringing in my ears as I started trying to crawl along the shrubs toward the back of the truck, pulling Stephanie with me, trying to escape the burning truck. Suddenly, the brush in front me began disintegrating as a hail of automatic fire ripped through it. I ducked backward and tried to change direction when I spotted a man twenty yards behind us with an automatic weapon in his hands. He spotted me at the same time, bringing the machine gun up to his shoulder as he aimed at us. I tried to roll onto my back to bring the Ruger up to return fire, but discovered that somewhere in the explosion I had lost the gun. I helplessly watched the man bring the barrel of his weapon to bear on us. Then he suddenly jerked, flying backwards, dropping the weapon. I was still watching were the man was, in shock, as a pair of hands grabbed me by the shoulders and I was hoisted into the air like I was weightless, and thrown across a shoulder. Whoever grabbed me took off, running away from the UPS truck. Behind me, I could see another man dressed in military combat fatigues, a boonie hat and black face paint, carrying Stephanie in the same manner that I was being carried. About fifty yards from the UPS truck, I was dropped, not all that gently, back to the ground just as the UPS truck went up in a ball of fire.

The Princess of the Desert

By Melodie Thomas

Edited by Holly Hart

Chapter 13

Thursday, June 4, 2009
The United States Navy and the United States Marine Corp have never really considered themselves the best of friends. Though both belong to the Department of the Navy, there has always been enough rivalry to keep them at odds with each other over just about anything. Having been a Marine, I had been indoctrinated with that same level of rivalry and did not consider anyone from the Navy to be worth my time. However, on that Tuesday morning, there were four Navy SEALs that I could have kissed, and I think Stephanie did.

The bungalow, our rental car and the UPS truck and had been totally destroyed in the explosions. Both gunman had be killed by the SEALs and background checks revealed one was from Syria and the other from Iran, both being in the U.S. on student visas at the University of Hawaii. This discovery convinced Smith that he was correct in his assumption the whole case we were working on was tied into the Islamic extremist activities in the Middle East. It also caused increased attention to the other seven University of Hawaii students who were from the Middle East.

Stephanie and I were taken to the U.S. Naval Hospital at Pearl Harbor, where our various cuts, scratches and bruises were treated, as well as having our ears checked, as normal hearing was slow to return. Considering everything that happened, we counted ourselves very lucky. We spent Tuesday night in quarters on the Naval base, and Wednesday morning were given seats on the daily military shuttle between Hawaii and San Diego Naval base. Since all of our personal belongings were destroyed in the explosion, we were given military uniforms, without rank or insignia, for our trip back to the States. After landing in San Diego, we were escorted to a hanger where a familiar Lear Jet was waiting for us.

“You two look like you have been a couple of rounds with a rose bush.” Smith greeted us as we entered the Leer.

I could tell from the look on Stephanie’s face that the response she had in mind was not very ladylike. She walked past Smith, grabbed the travel bag he was holding, and headed to the bathroom without saying a word. I grabbed a cup of coffee from the galley and sat down opposite Smith.

“Other than your sharp wit, did you bring any useful information?” I asked, sipping my coffee.

Smith set his coffee on the table, “Vivian Vasnev has disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

“Yep, disappeared, suitcases, clothes, personal bank account emptied, credit cards left on the table, passport left on the table, disappeared. Ivan is still here and totally beside himself. Doesn’t seem like he can explain it, or understand it. Either he is putting on a good act, or we have been looking in the wrong direction.”

We were quiet for a few minutes while I pondered what I was just told, and I felt the jet start to move.

“How is Steph doing?” Smith broke the silence.

“Honestly, I don’t know, and now thinking that Vivian could be involved, makes me wonder even more. Steph and Vivian seemed pretty close, and Stephanie has been taking a lot of drugs.”

“I know,” Smith interjected, “Ryan told me what you asked him to do.”

I could feel my anger raising as I looked at Smith. Apparently he could see it and laughed, “Dan, we are on the same side. Ryan is a pro, he is not going to break reporting protocol.”

“Okay, I will assume we are on the same side for now,” I responded coldly.

Smith laughed again, “I can understand your point. It does not seem to clear who is on whose side right now. Anyway, I have sent the drugs you collected to our lab to identify them. I don’t really think getting Dr. Reinfelt involved in this any further is a good idea.”

Thinking about it, I had to agree with him. If anyone knew Paula was involved they could silence her pretty easily since no one was watching out for her. I should not have been using her and Ryan’s friendship, but I was really having a hard time deciding who to trust. At that moment, Stephanie came out of the bathroom looking like a different person. She was wearing a white tee shirt, shorts and three inch heeled sandals. Her hair was brushed and bound in a ponytail and she was wearing makeup that covered most of the scratches on her face. She walked past us, to the galley, got a bottle of water and returned to the seat next to me.

“Thank you.” Stephanie said, looking at Smith, “Tell me about Vivian, please.”

Smith repeated for Stephanie what he had told me and I could see her shoulders slump slightly as well as a down cast in her eyes.

“I trusted her.” Stephanie finally whispered.

“I am sorry, Steph.” Smith said as I reached over and took her hand. “I wish I could tell you who to trust in this mess, besides the guy sitting next to you.”

“I trust him with my heart and soul, Mr. Smith. However, the jury is still out on you.”

Smith laughed aloud, “You two make quite a pair, but I can’t say that I blame you.”

“Now that we know that neither or us really trust you,” I said, “What can you tell us about what you have learned over the past few days.”

Smith got serious as he sat there and thought for a moment. “The brands on the girls we recovered were 8, 10, 11, 17 and 20. Counting the five we already knew about, Steph and the girl in Hawaii, we have twelve of the known twenty four recovered. Steph, do you happen to know the number on the girl in Hawaii?”

Stephanie shook her head, “No, I only knew her by name and not really that well. We had crossed paths once or twice and that was it. Also, I did not remember any of that until the instant I saw her.”

Smith looked like he wanted to ask a question but then changed his mind. “Ivan is working with the girls, and we have brought in three more staff psychiatrist. The new doctors are working with Ivan and studying the notes on their own. Ivan’s activities are being very closely monitored and I would like to phase him out of the case just due to the personal involvement, if for no other reason. He has agreed to all of this.

“We have not learned much from the girls yet, pretty much going through the same issues we had with you.” Smith nodded at Stephanie. “We are expecting that to take quite a bit of time. For the most part, they all show the same injury patterns that Steph showed, as well as the drug dependencies. The one we lost at the scene was number eight. When the team entered the building, all three were in separate cell-like cages, however, number eight was not locked in, and had a weapon. She opened fire as soon as our team entered and our guys returned fire. None of our guys were injured but victim seventeen caught a ricochet in the leg, nothing serious though.“

Smith paused for a moment and took a sip of his coffee. “Steph, all of the doctors agree that at some point, there could be value with you spending some time with the new girls. They feel the girls may relate better to someone that ‘has been there’, shall we say.”

Stephanie thought for a moment, “I would like to do that, Mr. Smith, but I would really have to see where they are and where I am. As you well know, I am not, what one would call, cured, yet.”

“I understand,” Smith nodded, “However, the doctors do think it would be helpful if the girls felt they had someone that had been through the same thing to talk to. By the way, what is this about the girls not being allowed to kill each other?”

Stephanie thought for a moment, “I know this may sound like I am hiding something, but I don’t really remember that much. It seems when I see something, images flash back into be head. Like when I first saw Charkov, I instantly remembered all of the things he said and most of the circumstances around them. Dan and I had long talks about that.”

I nodded in agreement while sipping my coffee.

“The same happened when I saw April,” Stephanie continued, “images and thoughts came back into my head that I could not have told you about moments before. I remembered that was a primary rule, we could not kill each other, or the people that controlled us. When I walked in to that house in Manila, and saw Charkov, the first thing I wanted to do was take my pistol and shoot him, but I couldn’t, I just knew I couldn’t.”

“And the fighting skills?” Smith asked.

Stephanie smiled, “I can tell you I like having them, I think they saved Dan’s life, but I can’t tell you a thing about how I got them. I have no memory of that kind of training, I just reacted to the situation, like my body knew what to do, I didn’t have to think about it.”

Smith stood and walked to the galley, returning with a pot of coffee, topping off my cup as well as his own before sitting back down.

“Smith,” I started, “This whole trust thing is really out of hand. Neither Stephanie nor I really know who we can trust. Sometimes, I have a hard time trusting Stephanie because I don’t know what kind of suppressed programming or training is going to pop up next.”

Smith’s eyes opened in surprise at that statement and glanced quickly at Stephanie.

“It is true, we have talked about it,” Stephanie said, “sometimes I don’t even trust myself. I don’t know what all is inside of here,” pointing at her head. “To be honest, that sometimes scares me more than the people we are looking for.”

“I understand about operational security and that kind of stuff,” I stepped back in, “but it might go a long way in this trust question if we knew exactly who you were, and what you do, and why you are involved in this.”

Smith held his coffee cup and looked at me for the longest moment. Finally, he sat his cup back on the table and reached into his back pocket and pulled out a leather identification pack and slid it across the table to me.

“My real name is Smith,” he said as I picked up the wallet, “Joshua Smith. I am a senior field supervisor reporting to the Director of Operations with the CIA. I don’t know if my birth name is Smith or not. I was an orphan and was found on the steps of a church when I was about two months old. I had the name Joshua pinned to my blanket and the last name Smith, came from the nuns. As for why I am involved in this, I think you already know the answer to that. We believe this is some form of terrorist activity and that falls under our realm of responsibility.”

The identity card and photograph inside the leather pouch said the same thing as Smith was telling us.

“I hate the name Joshua or Josh, so I just go by Smith. Everything I have told you has been the truth from the first day we meet, I just have not expounded on all the details. I know you two have been through a lot, but I am one of the good guys.”

“Thank you Joshua, I hope that is true.” Stephanie said with one of her killer smiles, causing Smith to roll his eyes and look at the ceiling.

“What about Charkov and the other two?” I asked, trying not to let the situation get out of control.

“The other two guys were just hired thugs,” Smith said shaking his head with a slight smile. “They are Philippine nationals who were just hired by Charkov and have nothing useful for us. They will wake up in a few days on a beach somewhere in the Philippines. They may have a few stories to tell but I doubt anyone will seriously listen to them. Besides, they have no idea who took them or where they have been.

“Charkov, on the other hand, has been a tougher nut to deal with. First off, we had to wire his jaw shut.” Smith glanced at Stephanie, who did not even act like she heard him. “After that, it had just been a slow process.”

“I am assuming he has a lawyer by now.” I said.

Smith smiled, “Dan, I hope this does not become a problem with you, but we don’t always operate to the letter of the law for non U.S. citizens. No, Charkov has not been supplied with a lawyer, though he has asked for one a number of times.”

Smith just sat there looking at me, waiting to see how I would respond. Being a sworn officer of the law, I know the rights of the accused and know they are entitled to representation, and that I am duty bound to provide it. I also knew that willfully violating that duty could not only cost me my job, but perhaps bring criminal charges as well. I glanced at Stephanie, who was pretending to read the label on her water bottle, and knew that she had not been read her of rights, or been given due process in what happened to her, or the other victims. I also had a pretty good idea of the kind of questioning Smith was subjecting Charkov to, but no matter what it was, it was nowhere near as brutal was what Steph had lived through. I thought about the way I felt in Las Cruces when I saw that video and what I would have been willing to do to anyone at that time.

“I don’t want to know about it, nor do I want to see it. I just want to know what you learn. Beyond that, I don’t know anything.”

Smith nodded, “So far we have not learned much from him. Charkov claims he was not involved in most of the planning activities, only in the training of the victims. He so far has not been able to give us a total number of victims. He thinks there was one more group of four taken after Stephanie, but is not positive about it.

“We quizzed him pretty heavily about Vivian and Ivan, and he claims no knowledge of them, only that he worked with Anya and Robert, whom he claims are his family. It will take us a lot more time to get everything out of him, but we are working on it.”

Monday, June 8, 2009
We did not arrive back in D.C. until late Thursday night and Smith had already arranged a hotel room for Stephanie and me. I am not sure why, but I was surprised to find the room to be a single bedroom suite, instead of the two room suite that we’d had last time. I guess even the CIA knew the situation between Steph and I had changed. Since we’d lost all of our clothes and personal items in Hawaii, we spend most of the day shopping. Smith offered us a little bit of help there, but the majority of the funds came from my own personal account, with which Stephanie had a lot of fun. Stephanie insisted that I be her audience while she modeled all of the latest fashions for me. I think she was having a lot of fun watching my face as she told me what the prices were of the clothes she was wearing. It took me a while to realize that she was just having fun at my expense, because after all of the shows, the items she settled on, were always moderately priced, and reasonable attire.

Friday evening we had dinner with Smith, where he explained he did not want us coming to the detention center until Monday. He wanted to make sure all of the doctors were ready for us. That morning at nine am, a car was waiting for us in front of our hotel. There did not appear to be anything special about the car, standard four-door sedan with dark tinted windows. However, once we got inside, we discovered those tinted windows were really tinted windows, the kind you can’t see out of. There was also a glass divider between us and the driver, which was also completely black. Smith had warned us about this, as the location of the detention center was a very closely guarded secret.

The drive took just under an hour, and though there was plenty of light in the car, the last part of the trip began to feel pretty claustrophobic. When the car finally stopped, and the driver opened our door, we found ourselves in a fully enclosed, concrete parking garage with around fifteen similar cars parked in various places. The driver pointed to a nearby elevator door, then got back in the car and drove off, leaving us standing there watching after him. After a moment, Steph and I walked over to the elevator door and pressed the only button on the outside. A few minutes later, the elevator doors opened and we stepped inside. Trying to decide which floor, we needed to go too turned out not being an issue, as there were no floors to select from, actually, there were no buttons at all inside the elevator car. Once we stepped in, the doors closed and we could feel the elevator car starting a descent.

When the elevator door opened again, where had once been a cold concrete parking garage, now appeared a warm, softly light, well decorated office area, with two nice desks facing the elevator doors about five feet apart. Sitting at each of the desks was a man in a well-fitting suit and broad smiles. The only thing that could be considered out of place for any working office, were the two short barreled, black shotguns lying on each desk.

“Agent McNeil, Ms. Atkins, welcome to the Club,” one of the men greeted us with a large smile.

“The Club?” I asked.

“Just our pet name for the place,” the other man spoke while reaching out with two identification badges, “Mr. Smith has already been notified of your arrival and will be with you in a moment.”

“Don’t you guys want to check us for weapons or something?” I asked, a bit puzzled by the whole place.

“We already have, sir,” the first man answered again, “in the elevator.”

At that moment, the door behind the two desks opened and Smith enter the area. “Dan, Steph, come on back.”

We followed Smith through the door, which closed behind us, and into a long hallway that was broken up by doors on either side, all closed, none with names or markings on them. Smith stopped at the seventh or eighth door down the hall, softly knocked and opened the door and walked in, with us behind him. The room we entered was a well-appointed office with a moderate desk set against one wall with a bookcase behind it. In the middle of the room were four plush chairs positioned around a glass coffee table. Sitting at the desk was an older lady with white hair that curled just past her ears. She stood as we entered. She appeared to be only five three or five four, not heavy set but not skinny either, I guess the proper term would be full figured. Spotting a set of reading glasses attached to a gold chain around her neck, my first thought was of one of my high school English teachers.

“Barbra,” Smith spoke, “I would like to introduce you to Dan McNeil and Stephanie Atkins. Dan, Steph, this is Doctor Barbra Carson.”

Dr. Carson expressed a wide, smile as she approached us and the sparkling green eyes gave me the impression that at one time that white hair may have been red.

“Agent McNeil,” Dr. Carson greeted as she extended her hand, “May I call you Dan?”

I nodded as I took her hand.

Dr. Carson turned her attention to Stephanie, “Stephanie Atkins, I have read and heard so much about you. It is very much a pleasure to meet you.”

Stephanie returned one of her thousand watt smiles, “I hope, Dr. Carson, that some of what you heard is good?”

“Oh, please,” Dr. Carson laughed, “both of you, call me Barbra. Honestly, no, I can’t say that everything I have heard is good. You have had some very hard times, my Dear. I am amazed that you seem as well adjusted as you are.”

“I have had a very strong support group.” Stephanie answered, taking my hand.

“Yes, I understand that too, and actually, quite pleased to know it. However, right now, I would really like to have some time alone with you, my dear. I think there are a lot of things we need to talk about.”

Stephanie looked at me for a moment until I slightly nodded, which she responded to with a nod of her own, and let go of my hand.

“Very good,” Barbra exclaimed, “now if you gentlemen would excuse us for a while, we have some girl things to talk about.”

I exited the room and Smith closed the door as he came out. “I can’t tell you much, Dan. It does have to do with the drugs that you found in Stephanie’s luggage. I do not have the details, and hope I can get them to you later, doctor/patient type thing, but there was stuff in there that should not have been there. Barbra wants to talk to Stephanie about it.”

I had a thousand questions, but knew asking them right now would do me no good, so I just nodded in acceptance.

“In the meantime, there are a couple of people that I think you would be interested in talking to. Barbra will call me when they are done, and we can come back for Steph.”

Smith started walking further down the hall as I followed. We came to an intersection in the hall way that went both left and right with an identical looking hallways, with identical doors. If there were too many of these, this place could turn into an incredible maze. We turned left at the intersection and continued another four doors before stopping and repeating the knocking and entering process. The room we entered looked almost identical to the Barbra’s office, where I’d just left Stephanie, except in this case, there was no one sitting at the desk. Instead, sitting in one of the chairs around the coffee table, was Doctor Ivan Vasnev.

Vasnev looked different to me, like he had aged years in the few weeks since I had seen him. Instead of his normal cane, he had a metal frame walker sitting next to him, and the mischievous sparkle that I had always seen in his eyes, seemed to be missing.

“Come in, young man.” Ivan greeted us with a small smile. “Please, have a seat. I think there are some things we need to talk about.”

I sat in one of the chairs opposite Ivan; Smith sat in the one next to me. Ivan sat, studying his hands for a few minutes, as if attempting to compose his thoughts.

“First of all, I would like to offer an apology for what I think has been going on, and my apparent involvement in it.” Ivan said, without looking up from his hands.

“Ivan,” I interrupted, “tell me why I should even be listening to you, let alone believe anything you tell me?”

Ivan looked up at me, “Perhaps because I am still here?”

I nodded towards his walker, “Perhaps because you were not able to run with your wife.”

Ivan glanced at his walker then back to me, I could see the moisture in his eyes. “I could just be here to cause subterfuge and confusion?”

“Perhaps,” is all I said.

Ivan slowly nodded his head while returning his gaze to his hands. After a moment he returned his eyes to mine. “Young man, there is nothing I can say that would eliminate the doubts in your mind. Therefore, I can only tell you what I have to tell you, and then you will have to decide what to do with it.”

“Okay, I am listening.”

“I am afraid to say, that it appears the manipulation of our young Ms. Stephanie has continued far beyond what we expected. From what I have been able to uncover, my currently missing wife, who was Stephanie’s primary care giver, went to great lengths to keep some memories suppressed and certain response triggers in place. Vivian was also manipulating Stephanie’s emotions and thought processes in many areas.

“The reason the assassins were able to find you in Hawaii was due to a subconscious trigger that Vivian had implanted in Stephanie’s head. The trigger was simple, in that if Stephanie ever found herself somewhere that no one in Mr. Smith’s organization knew about, she would have an uncontrollable desire to call Vivian. When you went ‘off the grid’, so to speak, in Hawaii it triggered that impulse. The day after we heard of the failed attack, my wife disappeared.”

This is something I had pretty much suspected and was not greatly surprised to hear, however, I responded with the surprised raised eyebrow look.

Ivan continued, “What I suspect our Stephanie is hearing right now from Dr. Carson, is that the majority of the drugs that she had been taking, were not related to a medical condition, but a cocktail designed to keep her susceptible to suggestion and to lower her inhibitions to responding to those suggestions. In reality, she does need medication to help with kidney damage, blood pressure and thyroid damage, perhaps some anxiety and depression control, but that is all.“

Ivan sat quietly for a few moments, again watching his hands closely. “What I am going to tell you next is not something I can prove, only suspect, and I want you to consider that as I tell you. I may be totally off base here, but some of the evidence does support the theory. This could be quite painful for you, young man.”

Ivan looked up at me and held my gaze until I nodded my understanding and for him to continue.

“I am sorry to say, that there is a good possibility that some, if not all, of Stephanie’s emotions, responses and desires for you were manufactured by my wife.”

I was actually expecting something along those lines, but hearing the actual words was like being hit in the chest with a sledgehammer. Could it be the whole relationship was manipulated? I know my feelings are not, but I honestly don’t know about Stephanie’s. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.

“Dan,” Ivan continued, “I could be very wrong about this, but I know that Vivian and Stephanie had long talks about you and your relationship. I know Vivian spend a fair amount of time discussing it with me, and convincing me it was the best thing for Stephanie.”

“Why would she do that?” I asked, trying, but failing to keep the anxiety out of my voice.

Ivan sighed, “To keep Stephanie focused on something besides what happened to her, to cloud your judgment a little, to keep Stephanie in your confidence so she would have a better connection to the case, many possibilities.”

“So, what do I do now?”

“Same as before,” Ivan smiled, “follow your heart. If her love for you is real, then it will stay when the medication and suggestions are eliminated. She may discover new emotions or sensations that she will still need you to lean on. She is still going to need you though, maybe differently in some ways. I am sure that Dr. Carson will be changing her medication as of today, you will just have to go along and support where you can. I am really sorry for all of this, I truly am.”

We left Ivan in the office and Smith led me through another maze of hallways to a small cafeteria area, where we both had a cup of coffee, while we waited for the call from Dr. Carson. We picked a small corner table and after setting my coffee on the table, with both elbows on the table, I buried my face in my hands.

“My God,” I moaned, “what a roller coaster ride. I have no idea what is real anymore and what is not. I have no idea what other surprises are buried in Stephanie’s head or when they are going to come out. Now I find out the girl I fell in love with may not be the real person after all, though I kind of knew that risk existed.”

“Son,” Smith said, “I may be naíve or just plain stupid, but I can’t believe that everything that I have seen between the two of you was fabricated. There just seems to be too much there. Taking advice from me may be about as useful as an ice cube in a snowstorm, but keep the faith. The outcome may be different, but I still think there is more there. Don’t give up on her, or the two of you.”

Two hours and four cups of coffee later, the call finally came from Dr. Carson that we could stop by and pick up Stephanie. Smith led me back through the maze of hallways, a path that I would have needed bread crumbs to follow, until he reached the door he was looking for and knocked and then opened the door.

Barbra and Stephanie were sitting opposite each other in a similar setting to the one I met with Ivan in. Barbra rose to her feet as soon as we entered but Stephanie remained sitting, looking at a tissue in her hand. From the box of tissues on the table, and the half-full wastebasket next to her, I could tell that tears had been involved in this session. I watched as Stephanie continued to study the tissue she was holding. After a long moment, she dropped in the wastebasket, stood and straightened out her pants and then picked up her purse. Not once did she look up at us. She finally turned in our direction and made eye contact with me, holding it for a few moments. I did not see the normal sparkle or smile in her eyes that I was used to seeing. Her eyes were flat, unyielding and her face was expressionless.

After leaving Dr. Carson, Smith led us to another cafeteria where a box style sandwich lunch was being served. Lunch conversation was very light with Stephanie hardly saying a word. I kept fighting the urge to ask her if she was okay, to ask her to talk to me. I felt lost and confused. I tried to touch her hand once but she moved it away from me, without making eye contact or saying anything. I had this feeling I was losing her and needed to do something, but I had no idea what.

The rest of the day was spent with window tours of the surviving victims that were rescued in Manila. Through closed circuit cameras, we saw each of the four and received updates from Smith and the attending doctors. Three of the five had been identified through fingerprints, one being the victim that died. Notification of family was being delayed until more was understood of their condition and for what Smith called security reasons. He did not want this case in the national news, and returning three forced feminized men to their families would surely get media attention.

The conversations about families make me think of Stephanie even more. She had parents and a daughter that had no idea she was alive, nor had Stephanie made any mention of them since she was first found many months ago. Throughout the discussions, she gave no indication of interest, or had questions of her own family. She just focused on the television monitors and studied the victims while the rest of us talked. Occasionally, someone would ask her a question, and that question always had to be repeated, as if she were not listening, or really didn’t care what was being discussed. Her answers were always short, brief and disinterested.

Later that evening, it was only the two of us at dinner, but conversation was pretty much limited to what the menu selections were. I tried to engage her in conversations about the victims, the weather or if I should wear a pink shirt with purple feathers, and in each case she would just smile politely while continuing to study her water glass or her dinner plate. She did tell me that Barbra made an appointment for her the next day with a series of doctors. She wanted Stephanie to have a complete physical, including blood work and an MRI, but even Stephanie’s telling me of this was more like talking to herself than to me.

As the day came to an end, I had finished my personal preparations and reclined in bed, with my hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling while Stephanie was still in her bathroom. I was not sure what to expect tonight, and was even a little surprised that Stephanie had not asked for her own room, based on the way she had been acting all afternoon. After a few minutes, the door to her bathroom opened and Stephanie walked to her side of the bed, wearing a similar long nightgown to the one she wore our first night in the same bed. She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment before lying back on her pillows, looking at the ceiling.

The space between us felt like miles as we lay there quietly for about 10 minutes while I fought the urge to beg her to talk to me. I had to keep my focus on the ceiling or I knew I would lose that fight. I felt a movement in the bed next to me, but did not turn to look. I felt the closeness of her body and the weight her head on my shoulder, as she reached across me with her right arm and hugged my chest, I instinctively moved my right arm around her shoulders.

“Do you think the only reason I feel so good in your arms is because someone programmed me to feel that way?” came the soft whisper from my chest.

“I don’t know,” I whispered back, “I hope not.”

“Me too. Do you think the only reason I love you so much is because someone told me I was supposed to?”

“Again, I don’t know, but I hope not. No one told me what to think and I know I love you.”

“I hope not too,” Stephanie responded and was quiet for a few minutes. “Right at this moment, I love you will all my heart, and I am terrified that I will wake up one day and find that was all a feeling that someone created for me I don’t know how I would deal with that”.

I had to think for a few minutes about how I was feeling, “I am afraid of the same thing, Steph, and I am not sure how I would deal with it either. However, I can’t let that consume me or I will not enjoy what I have right now. We will deal with what we have to deal with tomorrow; right now I just want to enjoy having you in my arms.”

The Princess of the Desert

By Melodie Thomas

Edited by Holly Hart

Chapter 14

Friday, June 19, 2009
The last two weeks was a wild ride of activities, with nothing that I would consider a major accomplishment. Stephanie seemed to have an appointment with one doctor or another every other day, as well as a daily session with Dr. Carson. Her medication was changed and she openly showed me that she was now only taking five pills a day, each with a prescribed purpose, including a hormone supplement. After the shock of our first day at the “club”, our relationship quickly returned to how it had been before. She was back to being my best friend, and we could and did talk about anything. Our closeness was back as well, and holding hands, or arm in arm became the normal again.

About a week after Stephanie’s first visit to Dr. Carson, I stopped by the office to pick her up after her daily session. As I entered the office, Stephanie stood up, walked up to me, threw her arms around my neck and proceeded to start a tongue dueling battle. After a few moments, she stepped back with a big smile on her face.

“Yes, I would say that still feels as good as it always did.” Stephanie declared. Then glancing down at the tent that had just formed in the front of my pants, “and I would say it still has the same effect on him.”

Barbra Carson was laughing so hard in her chair I thought she was going to fall out of it sideways, and I could feel myself turning as red as an apple. Stephanie explained to me later that nearly all of her discussions with Barbra had been focused around who Stephanie was today, not who she used to be or what happened to her.

The two of them had spent a lot of time talking about the differences in emotional responses and thoughts between males and females and pushing Stephanie to honestly talk about the way she felt today, about life, people, things and emotions, and then comparing that to expected normal. Stephanie said she was discovering that her normal responses tended to lean toward the feminine side, which was making her feel more comfortable about who she is now. Even if some of her past actions had been manipulated, Stephanie was trying to focus on who she was now, without the drugs, and was finding she was starting to like herself. She even admitted to Barbra that she found other men besides me, attractive, which was a big step for her. Though that caused a small rise of my little green monster, Stephanie explained that she always felt safe in people knowing of her attraction to me, but now she was able to identify a feminine side to herself that found other men attractive as well. She said Barbra called that ‘acceptance.’ Stephanie felt it meant there may have been a feminine side to her all along, something she could not admit to in the past.

During the past week, when she was not with Barbra or another doctor, Stephanie started spending some time with the surviving victims. Though I was relegated to watching in the observation rooms, Stephanie spent nearly an hour each day with each of the four victims who were in our custody. Slowly she started building a rapport with each, but number seventeen, who went by the name of Jill, was rapidly becoming one of Stephanie’s favorites and from what I could see, the feeling was mutual. By the end of their first hour together, it was clear that a friendship was forming, and Jill was in need of that friendship. She was having a very hard time coming to terms with whom she was and her resulting feminization. Having Stephanie available to talk to opened discussions that the doctor’s admitted they could not get Jill into, but Stephanie could. During one session, I was surprised to have Barbra join me in the observation room for about a half hour. When Barbra left she said this was good for Stephanie too, as she was talking through many of her own issues while trying to help Jill.

While Stephanie was with her doctors, I spent a large amount of my time going over the interrogation reports for Charkov or helping in the search for Vivian Vasnev. The CIA had dedicated a large amount of computer time to running facial recognition software looking for matches to Vivian from security tapes collected at airports, bus terminals, shipping docks and train stations. Everyone was convinced she had changed her look in some fashion, so the focus was on matching eyes, nose and mouth, shapes, sizes and spacing. The computer was kicking out any match that it found with greater than seventy percent matching, which were then gone through my hand. I spent a couple of hours a day sorting through the matches and helping categorize the findings, with no luck so far.

The interrogation of Charkov was a daily event and, as I had requested, I was not part of it, did not see it and knew nothing of the techniques that were being used. I knew that Charkov was not a willing participant in the interviews and not everything we got from him could be trusted. Printed copies of the Charkov interview tapes were made available every morning, only very few people heard the actual tapes. Investigators would pore through the printed versions comparing answers to questions to similar questions that had been asked in the past, looking for inconsistencies or patterns. Lists of follow up questions were always generated from this review, and they would be asked again and again over the next few days.

All information collected would be listed on a separate printout with a probability number associated to it, based on the number of times the same answer had been obtained to the same questions. Thus far, we had determined that Charkov had spent the last few months in Port Klang, Malaysia, which was in the suburbs of Kuala Lumpur, and he had chartered the plane that took him to Manila from there. Charkov confirmed that two of the victims, number eight, along with number seventeen, Jill, had been in Manila for a while, but claimed not to know how long. This information was somewhat supported by Stephanie’s discussions with Jill, where Jill claimed it had been quite a long time since she had been in a plane and that she had spent a lot of time with Amber, the girl we knew as number eight.

The remaining three were with Charkov in Malaysia for about a month and had arrived aboard a private yacht that belonged to Robert Brajovic, according to Charkov.

The CIA analysts were pretty confident that the stories of the yacht were real, and started efforts with the Malaysian government to get a listing of all private yachts that were recorded during the suspected time period. Though everyone was pretty sure that Malaysian immigrations had been skipped, as we had seen in Manila, there was still a hope that some record or registry could be found that could lead to the identity of the craft, or its owner. Questions were also being posed to Charkov in the attempt to get a better description of the yacht, or where the exchange occurred. Smith also told me the CIA was pulling some high power satellite imagery that had been taken at various times in the region. Though he would not give me any details, he said that satellite pictures were taken at various locations and various times around the world, the image experts were going to see if they could identify and private shipping activity in the Malaysia area during the time is question.

Charkov was also being questioned on why the victims were being moved to Manila and so far the answers have been very vague but leading to the opinion that some kind of mission was being planned. Charkov had given some indications that a large financial backer for the overall operation was anxious for some kind of activity to occur. What kind of activity or who the backer was had not been pulled out of Charkov as of yet.

Tonight, it was just the two of us having dinner at the hotel restaurant. Stephanie had spent most of the day with various doctors and Barbra, and I definitely sensed a change in her attitude today, a kind of sadness.

“Steph, you seem kind of down today. You doing okay?” I asked after the waiter had left from serving our meals.

Stephanie smiled at me, “I am fine, just kind of tired of all of the doctors poking, prodding, and questions. Just gets a little old after a while.”

I nodded but had the feeling that was not the real answer. “How are the test results coming back from your physicals?”

“Pretty much the same as we already knew,” Stephanie answered, sipping her wine, “I have some issues that they are trying to control.”

Stephanie was quiet for a few moments, then, “I had a long talk today with Barbra about what it would take for me to have the reassignment surgery.”

I had a feeling I was now getting closer to the problem, “and?”

“And, she thinks I am trying to move things along too fast. I tried to argue with her that it may seem fast to her, but I have had you in my life for almost a year and I really want to try to finish what someone else started …” She paused for a moment, “What do you think?”

We were now entering a topic that I needed to be very careful on. I had decided some time ago that I wanted Stephanie to finish the transition. However, I was not sure that was the best thing for her. I did not know how to have this conversation without adding a bias to it, but it was something I could not ignore either.

I set my fork down and thought for a moment, “I honestly don’t know how to answer that. I want you, and I want you for the rest of my life. The only way that we can make that happen is for you to finish the transition. However, I need to, no, we need to make sure that is the right decision at the right time. Do you think we are really there yet?”

“Probably not,” Stephanie said with a sigh. “Dan, we are not really doing much good here, can we go to Phoenix? I would really like to spend some time with Brenda, and if we can, I would like to take Jill with us.”

“Jill?” I was surprised, “I have no problem going to Phoenix. I really need to talk to Mike anyway, but do you think it is a good idea to take Jill with us? I mean, she has only had 2 weeks since we recovered her.”

“I know, but I think it would do her some good. I know it was good for me to talk to Brenda the first time.”

“Alright, I will give Smith a call in the morning and see what we can do.”

Tuesday, June 23, 2009
First thing Saturday morning, I gave Smith a call and hit him with the idea of a trip back to Phoenix and Stephanie’s desire to take Jill with us. I had prepared myself for an argument, but was completely taken by surprise with his agreement to the plan and his support of taking one of our new victims with us. Smith even offered the use of the Lear, to both take us to Arizona, and to pick us up again when we came back. The CIA was not going to be able to provide a protection detail, but Smith commented that he was sure the FBI could manage. Smith said he would call me back with information on when the Lear would be available.

I was so surprised with Smith’s agreement that after hanging up I just sat there and stared at the phone for a moment. This was the same guy that I had to spend twenty minutes arguing with before he would let Stephanie and me take off on our own in Hawaii. After what happened there, I was expecting a major argument and even some compromising, but instead, he readily agreed. Warnings were flashing in my head that this was way too easy.

Stephanie was excited with the news and immediately starting listing the things that we would need for the trip. Neither of us had suitcases, since ours was lost in Hawaii, and Jill needed to have clothes and personal things. With this plan, she needed to go to the detention center today and get measurements for Jill, and then we needed to do some shopping this weekend. She did not seemed to bothered at all by Smith’s rapid agreements and told me that I was just worrying a little too much, but that was alright with her.

While Stephanie took a shower, I called Mike Holiday to fill him in on the plan, which took a few minutes to get to, because first I had to grovel to the lecture about how I seemed to have forgotten that communication with my boss was important. Mike also reminded me that, even if I did not think communications with my boss was important, communications with my own mother should never be ignored, and I had failed miserably in that category as well. After being properly chastised and admitting he was right, I filled Mike in on the plan and that we would need a place to stay as well as a protection detail, if one could be arranged.

Mike told me that he would take care of the hotel and arrange to have Tina come up from Tucson as well as assign a couple other agents to us. Mike also said he would get in touch with my mother and Brenda so they could arrange a couple of family gatherings at my mom’s house and make sure everyone was available for whatever time we had. I told Mike I was not exactly sure when we would be arriving or how long we would be staying, but I would let him know as soon as I did.

My final call was to Tina, where, once again, I received the lecture about letting partners and friends know what was happening, or even if I was still alive. After a few minutes of apologizing and promising never to do it again, Tina agreed she would be able to go to Phoenix for a few days, as well as stopping by my house to get some of my clothes. When quizzed about what happened to the clothes I had taken with me, I promised to fill her in on all the details, once we get to Arizona.

Saturday afternoon, we returned to the detention center so Stephanie could talk to Jill about the trip, and what kind of clothes we should buy. Barbra wasn’t nearly as good about the trip we were planning as Smith was. She had no problem with Stephanie going, but had some real concerns about Jill. Barbra, Stephanie and Jill met in private for about an hour, which resulted in agreement that the trip was on, but Barbra was obviously still not that excited.

The leg wound that Jill had received in the gun battle in Manila, was really just a scratch and mostly healed. She still walked with a slight limp, and was still wearing a wrapping over the wound, but it was nothing the doctors thought would limit her ability to travel.

Smith let me know the Lear would be available Tuesday morning, so Sunday and Monday were dedicated to shopping, fitting clothes for Jill, and packing. That morning, Stephanie and I made our way to the airport, while Smith had Jill delivered in one of the blacked out cars. We arrived first and were waiting at the bottom of the steps when Jill arrived. I had never met Jill in person, and though she was very happy to see Stephanie, she treated me with a cold, cautious, attitude, even after Stephanie explained who I was. I was wondering just how good of an idea this really was.

The flight to Phoenix was uneventful, and Jill even started to warm up to me a little. Though her contributions to the conversations were minimal, I think she could see the relationship between Stephanie and me, which helped her relax a little. Stephanie had already explained to me that Jill was not at all comfortable with her feminization. As the effects of the drugs she had been taking wore off, Jill was really struggling with who she was, and who she wanted to be.

Steph had argued with me that she wanted to get Jill away from the influences of the doctors, and just let her meet some real people, and she could not think of anyone better than my sister, Brenda. That rationalization was still not clear to me, and Stephanie still could not explain to me how meeting Brenda was supposed to help Jill. From what I was gathering from the doctors, Jill wanted to start reversing the transformation, and the sooner the better.

We touched down in Phoenix in the mid afternoon and as we exited the plane, a familiar black SUV was parked beside the Jet, with Tina leaning on passenger side door. Stephanie and Tina greeted each other with a big hug, and Stephanie introduced Jill. I helped get the luggage out of the cabin, handing it down to another agent on the ground, who loaded it in the SUV. When the luggage had been unloaded, I came down the stairs to be greeted by Tina’s wagging finger.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, Mister.” Tina said in a stern, motherly tone.

“Yes, Mom, I am sorry, I will not do it again, please don’t ground me.” I replied with a smile and I walked into her hug.

“Ground you, hell, I am thinking about kicking your ass.”

“I would much prefer,” Stephanie joined the conversation, “that you got my permission first, since that is my ass.”

“Oh!,” Tina responded to Stephanie with her hands on her hips, “Getting possessive now are we?”

“Yep, got a problem with that?” Stephanie said with a smile that matched the one Tina was wearing.

“Nope, as long as you realize just how big a job you are asking for. This big lug is a handful to deal with and is obviously not that considerate to his friends and family.”

“Well,” Stephanie added, with a sigh of resignation, “I may have my work cut out for me, but I am determined to whip him into shape.”

“Good luck with that, girl.” Tina replied as she looked at me, shaking her head.

I just stood there with my mouth hanging open. At this point, as I walked between Tina and Stephanie, taking each by the hand, and leading them to the SUV, even Jill was laughing, which is something I had not seen yet. Steph and Jill took the back seat, while I sat up front with Tina as she drove. Tina said she was taking us to the hotel first, and then later over to my mom’s place. Brenda and Mike would be there as well.

During the drive to the hotel, I gave Tina a high level overview of what had happened over the past few weeks. I did not want to go into a lot of detail yet, as I was not sure how much to expose Jill too. I got the impression that both Tina and Stephanie understood, as Tina did not offer any questions and Stephanie did not try to add any detail.

When we arrived at the hotel, it became apparent that the overall change in Stephanie’s and my relationship had not been made common knowledge to my friends and coworkers. Reservations had been made for connecting rooms, one with a king bed and the other with two queen beds. Tina announced that the king was mine and the girls would share the room with the queen beds, to which, Stephanie quickly set her straight that where I slept, she slept, end of subject. Stephanie then took Jill to the other room to help her settle in, leaving Tina and me alone.

“Things have changed a bit since you left.” Tina commented, with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, a bit, but we only sleep together, Tina, only sleep.” I answered a little sheepishly.

Tina looked at me for a moment, “Where are you going with this Dan?”

“I really don’t have a good answer for you yet, Tina, but I can tell you it will include Stephanie if at all possible.”

Tina thought for a moment, “I guess that really does not surprise me. How about this other girl, Jill?”

“That one confuses me a little, partner. Actually there is a lot about this trip that confuses me and I wanted to talk to you about it. First I’m bothered that Smith so quickly agreed to us coming here. That just did not seem normal for him. Second, I don’t understand why Steph wanted to bring Jill, and I understand even less why Smith allowed that, too.”

“You think there is something else going on here?” Tina asked, sitting in one of the chairs in my room.

“The way things have worked out over the last few months, I am not discounting anything as a possibility. Let’s just say the responses I got to the request was outside what I would consider normal. Kind of makes me wonder what is waiting around the corner, if you know what I mean.”

Tina thought for a second or two, “Okay, I have a small detail scattered around the hotel. I will make sure they are extra vigilant, that there may be something in the air. Maybe we need to ask Mike for a few more people.”

“That is the other thing that bothers me,” I added, “Since we first got re-involved in this case back in March, we have not been able to move without a security detail of some kind being with us. Now, Smith just lets us fly off with no one and assumes someone else will take care of it. That just pegs my ‘Huh?’ meter.”

“Oh,” Tina said as if she just remembered something, “I brought your sidearm; it’s in the suitcase I brought from your house.”

“Thanks, let’s hope I don’t have a need for it.”

Stephanie and Jill re-entered my room and we decided it was time to head over to my mom’s place, as they were expecting us for an early dinner. Before we left, I excused myself for a moment and took the suitcase that Tina had brought me into the bathroom where I retrieved my service weapon, as well as a jacket to cover it.

When we arrived at Mom’s, Brenda answered the door and immediately fell into a hug and cheek kisses with Stephanie, like long lost friends. Jill was introduced and received a hug, Tina got a hug and I got the ‘if you can’t even call to tell us you are alive, you don’t get a hug’ look. I decided that was a pretty good indication of how the evening was going to go. The scene was repeated a few minutes later when Mom came into the room, except I did not just get the look, I got thumped in the chest and asked if I forgot I had a mom.

Stephanie, Jill, Brenda and my mom immediately headed to the back patio where dinner was being set up. Through the window, I could see Jill and Mom sitting at the table while Stephanie and Brenda walked towards the back of the property.

“Well,” Mike started, “I think you have heard enough about forgetting you have a mom, now let’s sit down and talk about you forgetting you have a boss.”

I slowly eased my way back into the living room, trying to keep an eye on Steph and Brenda at the same time. Whatever they were talking about looked pretty serious as it appeared that Stephanie was trying to explain something to Brenda that got an emotional response out of her. After a couple of moments, both Steph and Brenda stepped around behind the storage shed in the backyard, and I lost sight of them. I soon realized they were not coming back for a bit, so I took a seat in the living room with Tina and Mike.

“Okay,” I started, “Let me give you the details.”

Over the next half hour, I filled both of them in on the details of what happened in Manila, Hawaii and once we got back to D.C. I remained focused on the case and figured the personal side of things would come out when it needed to, but this was not the time. After I finished bring both of them up to speed, as well as repeating my concerns to Mike about how easy it had been to arrange this trip, I sat quietly and waited for the questions.

Mike was scratching his chin as he thought, “If Vivian Vasnev was involved in this, why weren’t the people in Manila warned?” He asked.

“I asked Smith that same question,” I responded. “He said they did not know about the Manila operation. Smith said that operation was so ‘black’ that only those that were directly involved in it needed to know about it.”

“Okay, but they had to know you were in Manila, so there had to be some warning, right?” Tina asked.

“I really did not get a clear answer on that from Smith. I know he was investigating the Vasnevs at that time, but I don’t know if they knew where we were. Smith claimed he was the only one that knew where we were and what cover names we were using. However, someone on his staff had to know, and what Ivan told me, that he and Vivian were only concerned if someone on the staff didn’t know where we were, like in Hawaii.”

Everyone was quite for a second, “Mike, I need a favor from you if I can.” I said, “The ID pack that Smith showed me, said his full name was Joshua Smith with the CIA. Can you work through some of your higher level contacts in Washington and see what you can find out about him?”

“You think he is still jerking your chain?” Mike asked.

“Right now I am not really sure about anything, but he has been a total mystery up till now and I would not be surprised if there was more there than I am being told. Shit, I think there is more happening than I am being told everywhere, and that includes Stephanie,” I said with a sad shake to my head.

“What do you mean?” Tina asked.

“Well, first there is the obvious part, okay, maybe no so obvious, but I have no idea what all is still in her head that has not come out. I mean, Christ, in Hawaii, she looked like a female Jackie Chan, moving with a speed and agility that I could not even come close to duplicating. What other surprises are in there?

“Second, I am not totally positive she is telling me everything she knows or remembers. Sometimes I get the impression she is trying to protect me from something, but have no idea what. Things that she has done, or were done to her? Knowledge of something that would put me in danger if I knew? I really don’t know, it’s more of a feeling than anything.”

“Okay,” Mike said, “I will do some asking around my contacts in Washington, on the hush, hush. I don’t think we want him to know we are looking into him. I will also do some asking about this detention center that you told us about. You really don’t know where it is?”

“No, I can give you a pretty good estimate on driving time from the hotel we stayed at, but that would just give us a general area. Also, if you could dig up any background on Doctor Barbra Carson, I would be interested in that too. She is a new face to the game and I don’t know her at all.”

“Okay,” Mike continued, “next question will be kind of touchy, but need an honest answer. Is your relationship with Stephanie clouding your judgment on this case?”

I could not help but start laughing, “Probably, but hell Mike, ten months ago you were afraid my relationship with Brenda was going to cloud my judgment. What now, are you afraid I have gone to the dark side?”

Mike smiled, “No, I am just being a boss and making sure you are thinking straight, that is all.”

I was about to answer when the back door opened and Mom called us to dinner, so I thought I would just leave that topic lie for right now. Was my judgment clouded? As I said, probably, but I don’t think it is totally blind. Yes, I tended to lean Stephanie’s way on any issues and give her the benefit of the doubt, but I did not see that as clouded judgment, I saw that as taking care of my partner and friend.

Dinner that night was definitely a family affair, and Stephanie was just part of the family. Jill, on the other hand was very much an outsider, and I could tell she was really overwhelmed with what was going on around her. Thinking back to where Stephanie had been two weeks after recovery, and there was no way she could have handled something like this. Again, I was questioning the wisdom of bringing her here, even though Brenda and my Mom were doing the best they could to talk to her, it was all still too raw. As the evening came to a close, I could see Jill pulling more and more into her own shell and shutting out the rest of the world. I was worried about her.

When we got back to the hotel that evening, I asked Stephanie to give Jill the sedative that Barbra had given us, just in case. After we got Jill asleep, Stephanie and I went to bed and Steph took up her normal position on my right shoulder.

“I am really worried about Jill,” I said, “I think this was too soon to bring her out.”

“I think you are right,” Stephanie answered, “but I think she is doing okay.”

“Not sure I agree with you. I think we should call Smith and see if we can get the Lear back here and take her back.”

“Really?” Stephanie lifted her head and looked at me, “I was really hoping for another day. Can we see how she is in the morning?”

“We can, but I think we are taking a major risk here that we really don’t need to take. I mean, I know where you were after two weeks, and there was no way you could have dealt with this kind of an outing.”

Stephanie sighed as she laid her head back down, “You are probably right. I just know how good it felt to me to have your family and friends around in the beginning, and I wanted to give some of that to Jill.”

“Sweetheart, I think that is fine, I just think we are moving too fast for her. She is still trying to cope with freedom, let alone what happened to her.”

“Sweetheart …” Stephanie chuckled, “Do you know that your mom asked me what my intentions were with her son tonight?”

Now it was my turn to raise my head, “She did? And you said?”

“She did and I told her that if I have my way about it I am going to be her daughter-in-law.”

“You did?” I was a bit shocked this conversation took place and wondered where I was at the time.

“I did, and your mother said I would make a wonderful daughter-in-law. Though she did admit to wanting grandkids, which is something I can’t do, even with the magic of modern medicine, but we can adopt.”

Now I was the one feeling overwhelmed.

“Don’t worry, Darling,” Stephanie raised her head and kissed me, “We haven’t set the date yet, but I will let you know as soon as we do. Now why don’t you go call Joshua and see if we can get the jet back here in the morning?”

Thursday, June 25, 2009
Smith was not able to get the Lear back to Phoenix until this morning so, as Stephanie had wished, we had an extra day of visiting with Brenda, Mom and Mike. Jill seemed to be a lot better on Wednesday, much more open and talkative, even if most of that was to Brenda. As with Stephanie, Brenda seemed to develop a rapid rapport with Jill and the two were soon acting like old friends. Stephanie, on the other hand, spent most of the day with Mom, and watching them around Mom’s house reminded me of a mother/daughter pair more than anything. They worked together in the kitchen preparing dinner, and seemed to be able to get caught up in any conversation topic. All in all, the day passed uneventfully and ended fairly early, as the Lear was scheduled to arrive at eight in the morning, meaning we needed to leave the hotel by seven.

As we were getting ready to say our goodbyes to everyone, Stephanie and Brenda disappeared into one of the back rooms for a few minutes. When they returned, Brenda appeared to have tears in her eyes, but she was smiling and holding Stephanie’s hand. Brenda walked up to me and handed me Stephanie’s hand.

“Now, little brother,” Brenda said, “I want you to promise me you will take good care of my sister, and bring her back soon.”

“I promise,” I responded, “to do everything in my power to protect her.”

“Who is going to protect her from you?” Mom asked, joining the conversation, “You don’t even remember you have a Mother.” She then turned to Stephanie and kissed her cheek, “You come back to us, girl, and you take care of this man for me, if you can.”

“I will do the best I can, Mom.” Stephanie responded returning the cheek kiss.

I was shocked, but pleased at the same time to hear Stephanie address my mother as ‘Mom’. For some reason I think I have missed a bunch of conversations today.

The rest of the goodbyes were said and I promised Mike I would keep him in the loop better, and he would feed back to me anything he learned.

Jill was the earlier riser this morning and seemed more anxious that any of us to get back to D.C., Stephanie was the hardest to get moving, but the smell of fresh coffee and the room service breakfast finally motivated her to head for the showers. A few minutes before seven, Tina arrived at our room with two other agents, who left with the luggage and were going to set up posts throughout the halls and elevator. Tina stayed with us, and she and I would be the primary escorts to the car.

The first warning of the problems that were to come this morning started at the elevator, where we discovered a maintenance man who told us the elevator doors on our floor were stuck and we needed to use the stairs to go down one floor. Since we were staying on the fifteenth floor, we needed to go down the stairs to the fourteenth, where the elevator was working. Tina radioed the two agents that just went down with the luggage and received the same story from them, they’d had to carry the luggage down one floor as well, but everything was fine after that.

When you are escorting someone who could be a likely target, anything out of the ordinary tends to make you nervous, and both Tina and I were feeling it as we started down the stairs. I took the lead and stayed about ten to fifteen feet ahead of the girls and we descended. As I reached the door to the fourteenth floor, I opened it and stepped into the hall way before signaling the girls that all was clear. Stephanie followed me out, with Jill and Tina behind us.

We were about half way between the stairway door and the elevator door when a room door in front of us opened and a woman in her mid-twenties and long dark hair stepped out. I slowed my pace and watched her but Stephanie instantly froze in place.

“Vicky?” Stephanie spoke to the woman in front of us.

“Hello, Stephanie,” The woman said as she drew a large caliber silenced handgun from behind her back.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tina react by going for her weapon, which was on her right hip. The moment her right arm moved to the handle of her weapon, Jill stepped sideways and delivered a hard elbow blow to Tina’s right rib cage. The blow caused Tina’s hand to slide off of her weapon, which Jill then pulled from the holster. As Tina was attempting to recover from the elbow blow, Jill swung the S&W, connecting the top slide rail with the bridge of Tina’s nose causing a loud cracking thud and Tina flying backwards.

Stephanie’s reactions were just a split second behind Jill’s. As the barrel of the S&W made contact with Tina’s nose, Stephanie was delivering a kick to the side of Jill’s knee. However the aim was off slightly and Jill was able to roll her leg to avoid damage, but she was not able to dodge the crashing downward elbow blow that Stephanie delivered to Jill’s forearm that was holding the S&W. I heard the bones crack and the weapon was sent flying across the hall.

I had kept most of my focus on Vicky, who was watching Stephanie and was trying to follow her with the handgun. I used the distraction to draw my weapon but as soon as it cleared the holster, I felt a sharp sting on the left side of my neck. Instinctively I grabbed for the side of my neck and saw the blue feathered dart in my left hand, at the same moment I saw a second woman behind Vicky. I tried to warn Stephanie, but my body began to feel like it weighed a ton. When I finally got my head turned in Stephanie’s direction, I saw her body convulsing on the floor and the two wire leads of a Taser leading way from her right side.

I tried to bring my weapon up, but my hand would no longer hold it, as I watched it fall from my hand to the floor. I tried to fight the effects of whatever was in the dart, but the edges of my vision were starting to darken and the hallway was going out of focus. I tried to take a step toward Stephanie and thought I was getting closer, until I realized I was getting closer to her by falling in her direction. I never felt myself hit the floor.

The Princess of the Desert

By Melodie Thomas

Edited by Holly Hart

Chapter 15

Unknown day or date
The world started coming back to me slowly, with the first indications that I was regaining consciousness was the awful pounding in my head as the effects of the drug started to wear off. I could not open my eyes yet, but my head felt like it was in a vise, and I felt like I would vomit at any second. The second thing I noticed was the floor I was laying on was moving, up and down, like on a wave, and that motion was not helping my head or my stomach. I tried to move and was greeted with a screaming pain in both of my shoulders. As my awareness increased, I realized that my hands were handcuffed behind me, but not to each other. My right hand was handcuffed to my left ankle, and my left to my right ankle. I was in the position of being hogtied, but nothing around my neck. I was lying on my stomach, on the floor and as my eyes were able to open, and my ears started registering sound, I realized I was on a boat. I had no idea how long I had been here, or how long I had been tied up this way, but my shoulders and knees were screaming in protest. I appeared to be in some kind of storage compartment that was just long enough and high enough for me to fit into, but no room to move.

I tried to look around the compartment the best I could, but there was little light, or little to be seen. From where I was laying, I could not tell where the door to the compartment was, so I lay my head back down and tried my best to control my breathing, to focus my mind away from the pain in my arms, legs and head. The best I could tell, I had no other injuries, so the only option I had was to wait until someone came for me and see what options were available then.

The human mind has a limit to the amount of pain that it can tolerate, and I was wondering when I would reach that point as the boat ride continued on for what seemed like hours. Each crash over a wave caused a new wave of nausea, and a renewed screaming in my joints. I thought I was about to reach the limit of sanity when I heard the sound of the engine change and the magnitude of the wave crashing start to decrease. At first I thought I was hearing things, but soon I could definitely feel a slowing in the motion as the ride slowly started to smooth out. A few minutes later, I could hear the engines pitching up, then down and the boat motion was erratic, then I felt a bump and we hit something solid, then the engine shut off, we had docked.

I was anxiously waiting for something to happen. Not only was my body screaming, but with the stopping of the boat, the air in the box was getting hotter and harder to breath. After a few minutes I felt like I was suffocating and being cooked alive at the same time. Time seemed to go on forever, and I started to feel panic set in, not from the pain but from the difficulty breathing. I started to squirm, which just caused magnified pain in my shoulders.

Suddenly the compartment wall on my left opened, with the wall lifting upward. The rush of fresh, cool air was almost like a blessing as I sucked in the cool air. While I was trying to catch a breath, a hand reached into the compartment and grabbed my bindings in the center of my back and pulled them towards the opening, causing me to roll up on my side. The movement sent new waves of pain throughout my entire body and I let out a small cry. However, my body did not stop moving when it reached the side as there was nothing there to hold me. I continued to roll over onto my back, with nothing but open air underneath me. I felt myself falling as I continued to rotate and suddenly impacted the floor on my right side with no warning or chance to brace myself. Landing on my right shoulder forced a cry out of my mouth as it felt like the shoulder was being torn off. As soon as the shoulder hit, my head bounced off of the steel plates of the floor and I lost my battle with the nausea and immediately vomited.

“It does not seem that our guest enjoyed our accommodations all that much. Shame really, Mr. Jones, could you please get a deck hose and clean up our guest?” I heard in a heavy accent above me.

I looked up and saw a man in a white sailor outfit and wearing the white hat of a sea captain, standing on a deck platform above me. I was about to ask who he was when I was hit in the face with a hard spray of salt water that went into my mouth and nose and started me choking. The spraying continued until all of my vomit was washed overboard and I was soaked from the waist up.

Gasping for air, I looked back at the man standing above me. “Who are you?” I croaked.

“Oh, my apologies for the error in my manors, Agent McNeil, I am Robert Brajovik, the Capitan of the ship that you just had the pleasure of riding on. I was hoping for a better greeting than that, maybe even a tip, but I guess you can’t please everyone.” He responded with a big smile on his face.

“Where is Stephanie?” I croaked out again.

“Stephanie?” Brajovik answered, “Oh, we found work for her on the last part of our journey. She is below entertaining my crew for a job well done. There were only ten of them, so she should be done shortly.”

I felt a crushing feeling in my chest, know what was happening to Stephanie, but there was nothing I could do, so I just lay my head back down on the deck.

“Now, Mr. Jones, please make sure the Agent McNeil’s hands are still bound, but release his feet.” I heard Brajovik order.

I felt someone behind me connect a set of cuffs on my wrists, followed by some fumbling then the pressure was released on my legs, one at a time. As my legs straightened out, the pain shooting through both knees and hips felt like a hot iron, and I could not help the groan that escaped my lips.

As soon as my legs were released, a set of hands grabbed each of my shoulders and lifted me to my feet. As my legs tried to carry my weight, they nearly collapsed, causing me to fall back against the bulkhead of the ship. The hands continued to hold my arms while I tried to get my legs to work again.

Though my eyes were watery from the pain in my legs, I got the first look at where I was. The boat was docked against a wooden pier that extended away from a sandy beach, lined with palm trees. From the smell in the air, the warmth of the air and the look of the land, we were at some tropical island or cove. From a cabin forward from me on the boat, I watched as four girls walked toward the gang plank that exited the boat. One was the girl that Stephanie called Vicky, two others I did not recognize, but the forth was Jill, with her arm in a sling.

As the girls reached the gangplank, another woman coming on board the boat greeted them. “Well done girls, welcome back.” I heard a similar accent to Brajovik’s.

“Thank you, Mistress,” all four answered in unison.

“Jill,” the woman said, “I hear that you were a great help to your sisters on this mission, you will be rewarded.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” Jill answered, looking at the floor.

“Girls, take Jill to the infirmary and have her arm tended to, then return to your quarters.”

“Yes, Mistress,” they all answered in unison again.

The woman continued onto the boat and started walking in my direction. She had long black hair that nearly reached her waist, was wearing white shorts and a white top that left little to the imagination.

“Agent McNeil,” the woman said, “I am Anya Brajovik and I am very pleased to meet you.”

“I have been hoping to meet you too, but I hope you don’t expect me to call you ‘Mistress,” I answered, feeling to level of bravado starting to return.

Anya laughed, “No, Agent McNeil, you may call me Anne. I will say that you are either a very talented, thus very dangerous man, or the luckiest man I have ever met, which makes you just as dangerous.”

I had a number of foolhardy comments at the tip of my tongue, but at once, common sense told me to keep my mouth shut.

“Either way,” Anya continued, “it is good to have you here, but I really doubt you will enjoy what we have in mind for you.”

“I want to see Stephanie,” was all I responded with.

Robert laughed, “No, Agent McNeil, I don’t think you would. Like I said, she is a bit busy right now.”

Just then I heard a scream come from inside the ship and instantly recognized it as Stephanie’s voice. I tried to lung forward and surprise the ones holding me, but my legs could not handle the movement and I stumbled. As I stumbled forward, a fist found its way into my sternum and I folded in half, collapsing back on the deck.

“Take him to the holding area.” I heard Robert command.

The pairs of hand again grabbed me by the shoulders and hauled me to my feet. Though I tried walking, I still did not have enough control over my legs to keep up with the two guys escorting me, so they were more dragging me off of the boat than me walking. I was dragged down the pier to a house that was mostly hidden behind some palm trees. Instead of going into the house, I was taken around the side where a set of stairs led down. At the bottom of the stairs, we entered a damp and musky basement area that had a number of rooms with heavily barred doors. I was led up to one of the rooms, pushed inside and the door closed and locked behind me.

The next day
Though I can’t see outside, I can tell if the sun is up or not based on the light seen through the door leading outside. I know the sun was up when they locked me in here. I have since seen the sun go down, come back up and now it appears to be going down again. No one had come to see me, give me food or give me water. My hands are still locked behind my back and I have not seen or heard another living soul. Though my stomach is growling with hunger, the biggest issue is I need water. My tongue feels like it is swollen to twice its normal size and my lips are starting to split from being dry. One of the things I remember from crisis training at both the FBI academy and from the military is don’t panic, as that only causes you to use up energy of which you already are in short supply. I knew they knew I was down here, so, I also knew that calling out or trying to get attention would do nothing but consume my critical energy supplies.

Instead, I spend my time focusing on Stephanie. I knew that whatever I was going through was child’s play compared to what she was dealing with, back in their hands again after being free for almost a year. I kept telling myself if she was tough enough to survive this, then I would be tough enough to survive with her. Mostly, I was praying we would both, somehow, find a way to survive.

The last image of Tina, sprawled out on the floor with her face covered in blood, haunted me as well. I had no idea if she was alive or not.

Night had definitely settled when I saw a light heading my direction from the other end of the hallway. Two guys walked to the front of my cell, opened the door and signaled me to come out. I cautiously approached them, but they must not of have thought I was moving fast enough, as one of them grabbed me by the shoulder, pulled me out the door and pushed me in the direction they came from. The momentum caused me to lose my footing, and I fell hard to my knees on the concrete floor. Wordlessly, one of the men walked up behind me, grabbed the chain between my cuffs and lifted, pulling my arms up behind me. The backward rotation of my shoulders left me no choice but to get to my feet as quickly as I could as the man behind me continued to lift. Once I was standing, he held my arms just at the pain point as he pushed me down the hall.

At the end of the hall I was directed to a set to stairs leading up, which put me one step higher than the guy behind me, easing the pain in my shoulders somewhat, but I was still in no position to do anything. As we reached the top of the stairs a door was opened and I was pushed into a room that looked like the lobby of a resort. There were a number of chairs and small couches scattered around various tables. In the center of the room was a larger coffee table that had a couch on one side and two overstuffed chairs on the other. I was directed to one of the overstuffed chairs and held there in a standing position.

“Please release his hands, but guard him closely. Have a seat Dan.” I heard a voice from behind me.

I tried to turn my head, but was held in place by the guy holding my cuffs. I felt activity around my wrists as one of the cuffs was released and I was pushed into the chair. I turned myself so I was sitting in the chair properly and slowly trying to work my shoulders due to the stiffness as Vivian Vasnev walked up and sat on the couch opposite me. Though I was surprised to see her, I tried to maintain a passive expression on my face. I tried to take a quick look around the room; the two guys that just brought me in moved over to my left, about thirty feet away. Both had automatic weapons in their hands. I could sense someone behind me but did not turn to look. With Vivian, the best count I had was four people in the room with me.

“Hello, Vivian.” I said in a very dry throated croak.

“Vicky,” Vivian spoke to someone behind me, “would you please bring Dan a cup of water. Please make it a plastic cup.”

“Yes, Madam.” I heard from behind me.

Vivian then looked at me, “You have been a real problem for me, Dan, and a real challenge at the same time.”

“I am not sure if I am supposed to apologize or not.” I responded, as the girl I had seen in the hotel handed me a plastic cup of water.

“Oh, most of it was really not your fault; at least I don’t think you did any of it on purpose.” Vivian smiled at me. “But that doesn’t make you any less of a problem.”

I really had no idea what she was talking about, but while she was talking, and not shooting me, I wanted to learn what I could. “Vivian, what is this all about?”

“You mean my little operation or our conversation?”

“Both, really.”

“What my husband’s sadistic father discovered years ago, was a gold mine in human behavior control, but he was far too stupid to truly understand it. When Anya rediscovered his notes, some years back, she and I started discussing what some of the potentials were and thus our little business was born.”

“What business?”

Vivian raised her hand in the air and signaled to someone behind me. The girl known as Vicky gracefully walked around my chair took Vivian’s hand and sat, very ladylike, on the arm of the couch. She had a perfect figure and a smile that would match Stephanie’s, any day. As with Stephanie, it was impossible for me to picture that this person use to be a man.

“We offer for hire, the best covert operators and assassins in the world. Perfectly trained, unquestionably loyal and more than willing to accept the ultimate sacrifice if needed. They can fit into any cover, and blend with any environment. Vicky here is part of the best group we ever had, which, by the way, is the same group that Stephanie came from.”

“If they were so good, why were you trying to kill them off for some low life videos?”

Vivian shook her head in disgust, “That was that worthless piece of shit Garcia. We had four excellently trained girls in that group we sent to Arizona, Erin, Lucy, Vicky and Stephanie. That asshole Garcia decided to use them as his personal play toys. Erin died and we thought Stephanie had too, until you sent her back to us. I would have spent anything to kill that bastard.”

“So, that is how they knew where he was so easily,” I said as though thinking out loud. “If Stephanie was one of your superstars, why did you get her back in the case, why try to kill her, why not just take her and run when you could?”

Vivian laughed out loud, “You are such a naive young man, and really not all that bright. Lovable, I agree, but not that bright. We were never trying to kill Stephanie, Dan, we were trying to kill you.”

I guess I could not hide the shocked look on my face.

“You see, Dan, something happened to Stephanie that I did not think was possible with any of my girls. She fell in love with you. You became her biggest motivation factor. I had her back for six months and I could not get past her love for you and get her back into the fold.”

“Ivan told me you created her love for me.”

“That is what I wanted Ivan to think, so he would put doubt between you, but even that did not work. For some reason, my beautiful Stephanie, fell in love with you and I could not break that tie. The only choice was to kill you and remove the focus of her love. The attempt at the court house in Albuquerque was designed to kill you. We failed and Stephanie’s love for you only grew.”

‘So, it was true, Stephanie’s love for me is as real as my love for her’. I thought to myself as my eyes just focused on the table in front of me.

“So, why are we having this conversation?” I asked, “why not just kill me now?”

Vivian smiled, “Unfortunately, Dan, that is exactly what I intend to do, but it will need to be more traumatic than that. Stephanie truly fell in love with you, and it was really a shock to me to find that kind of love could over write the years of work that I put into her. Kind of sad really, if you believe in such things. You see, Stephanie has built too close of a tie with you and your family, so only she will be able to break that relationship and she needs to do so willingly, then she will be mine again.”

I was about to ask for an explanation when I caught a movement to my right. Turning my head I saw Stephanie stumble into the room, as if she were pushed, followed by Charkov.

“Charkov?” I exclaimed as I bolted upright in the chair.

I had only sat up straight, quickly, but felt the sudden pressure of something hard against the back of my head and knew instantly what it was.

“Hello, Agent McNeil,” Charkov growled through clenched teeth, “sorry I cannot speak well, but I have been taking care of your little Stephie for you.”

Charkov was supposed to be with Smith, how could he be here? But, then again, I never saw him again after we left Manila; I only saw the reports from the interview. Was the whole thing a scam? I felt my whole being sinking. If Smith was in on this, then there would be no Cavalry coming to the rescue, nobody would be coming to the rescue.

Stephanie was pushed further into the room and I could see the bruises and tears on her face. Her lower lip was split and dried blood still formed a trickle from the corner of her mouth. She was wearing a see through white blouse with nothing underneath, and I could see long streaks of blood seeping through from her back. Her eyes were downcast, with no expression on her face.

Vivian signaled to the two guys that had brought me into the room, and they approached me, grabbing me by the shoulders and pushing me back to a standing position against the wall.

“You see, Dan,” Vivian said, still seated on the couch, “we had to put poor Stephanie through a little extra conditioning, but now she will rejoin our fold, and to do that, she will kill you for us.”

Stephanie was pushed over to the table in front of Vivian, where she continued to look down at the floor. Vicky walked over to Stephanie and set my S&W 10mm on the table in front of her, and then walked away, staying to my right.

I quickly glanced around the room to see what I had for options. There was one guy on each side of me, both with automatic weapons, I could attack one of them but never get both. Vicky was to my right, holding another pistol of some sort, Charkov was behind Stephanie, but did not appear to have a gun. I needed more time to think this through.

“Before you kill me,” I quickly said, “obviously Smith was involved in all of this, so what was the charade in Manila and in Hawaii? Why send the SEALs to rescue us?”

“It is really very simple,” Vivian said, “the Manila operation was simply a pickup but we wanted to expose Stephanie to Charkov and some of my girls to see if it would trigger her programed responses. Unfortunately, it triggered the wrong response as poor Mr. Charkov can attest to.”

“And the dead girl?” I asked, trying to stall more time.

“That was really a surprise, she jumped one of our men while they trying to restrain her. She got ahold of a weapon and they had no choice. There was too big of a trail on how you got there, so we had to bring you out. In Hawaii, again we were surprised because we did not expect Stephanie to defend you from April, memories of all of her training had been suppressed and we honestly did not think she would do what she did. Once you defeated April, we had no idea who else you called so we sent in real help and set it up to look like an attack.”

“So, who is Smith?” I asked

Vivian smiled at me, “That, my poor Dan, you will never know. Now, my child,” Vivian said speaking to Stephanie, “would you please kill Agent McNeil for me?”

“Yes, Madam.” Stephanie whispered as she reached down and picked up the weapon.

Stephanie brought the pistol to full arm extension, pointed right at my head. There was only about six feet between us, and I was looking right down the barrel. I felt my heart rate increase as panic started to set in, what do I do?

“Steph?” a pleading whisper escaped my lips.

Stephanie did not blink or react in anyway as she squeezed the trigger. My vision blurred as I heard the deafening sound of a ‘click’ as the firing pin fell on an empty chamber. It felt like time was frozen, and nothing happened.

“Oh dear,” Vivian said with a smile, “it seems we forgot to load it. Vicky, if you please.”

Vicky walked over and took the 10mm from Stephanie, removed the empty magazine and replaced it with a full one, racked the slide and handed the weapon back to Stephanie.

Stephanie brought the pistol back to aiming at my head, but this time there was something different, something in her eyes, a sparkle. I focused on her eyes and saw her wink her left eye at me and then I saw her lips move as she silently mouthed the words ‘I love you’. Just as her trigger finger tightened, the barrel of the 10mm moved quickly to my right. From six feet away I could feel the muzzle blast and I heard the sound to the bullet hitting something with a hollow thump and the gasp of a human voice. Stephanie allowed the recoil of the weapon to add to her momentum as she swung to her right, slamming the 10mm into Charkov’s already broken Jaw.

My reactions were not as quick as Stephanie’s, but I had both of my hands hanging in front of me, which I formed into a double fist and swung as hard as I could toward the man on my left, catching him in the cheek. The impact was not that hard, considering my already weakened condition, but was enough to surprise him and cause him to bang his head into the wall behind him. As I moved in his direction, the wall beside my head exploded into a pile of stinging fragments as someone fired in my direction. The side of my face felt like it was being scraped against a file as I continued my assault on the man next to me. I got my hands on his weapon as he recoiled off of the wall, I continued to drive forward, slamming my forehead into his face, which was enough to dislodge his grip on the weapon.

I hit the floor just as a new burst of automatic weapon fire came from across the room. As I rolled onto my back I could see two additional men and three other girls coming into the room, all carrying weapons. I brought the machine pistol in my hands around in that direction when suddenly, the lights went out and the room was plunged into total darkness.

Seconds after the lights went out; I could hear the sound of shattering glass and the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. Those sounds were followed by earsplitting explosions and a painfully bright light, one after another, after another. My vision was totally gone and all I could hear was a painful ringing in my ears. I was completely disoriented but could still hear the sound of gun fire coming from various directions.

The chaos in the room started to subside as my hearing started to return. I could hear voices.

“Clear!”

“Clear!”

“Clear!, Turn on the lights”

The lights came back on in the room and the first thing I saw was a man standing over me in a wetsuit, a black painted face, night vision goggles, and a suppressed machine gun pointing at me.

“Agent Daniel McNeil?” The man asked.

I nodded my head and pushed the machine pistol next to me away and raised my hands. The man nodded back, “U.S. Navy SEALs. We are here to get you out.”

I quickly stumbled to my feet. The room was still spinning, but I stumbled my way back to where I had last seen Stephanie. Vivian Vasnev was lying face down on the coffee table that had been in front of her, with a pool of blood dripping off of the edge of the table. I saw Charkov on the floor and Stephanie was next to him, part way under him. I rushed over to her, grabbing and throwing Charkov’s body aside. Stephanie was lying on her back, her whole front covered in blood and the hilt of a knife sticking out of her ribs, next to her left breast.

“Oh God, NO! Stephanie!” I cried.

“Medic! Medic!” I screamed as I dropped beside her and pulled her into my arms.

I could see the pain and fear in her eyes as the tears started falling freely from mine.

“No, no, no, please God no.” Was all I could get out.

Stephanie slowly raised her left hand and touched my lips with her finger tips, and I watched the light fade from those beautiful eyes.

A SEAL dropped to his knees opposite me with a medical bag, and put his fingers to Stephanie’s neck. I looked at him, pleading with my eyes. He looked at me, then lowered his eyes and shook his head. She was gone.

I don’t know how long I sat there holding her. There were no more tears to cry and I had no place to go, so I sat there. I didn’t want to let her go. I felt hands on my shoulders and a voice trying to talk to me but it was not getting through. Slowly I turned my head and saw Mike Holiday sitting next to me, with tears rolling down his cheeks. He reached around and pulled my head onto his shoulder, and the tears started again.

Saturday, July 11, 2009
The services had ended some time ago, the eulogy has been read, the lectern taken down, and the maintenance crew had already folded and stacked all of the chairs, all except the one that I was sitting in. Everyone had wandered their way out of the cemetery, returning to the parking lot, where they huddled in a group, watching me. As far as services go, it was very small, with only seven of us in attendance.

My mom, Mike and Brenda came down from Phoenix; Paula was here, as well as Tina and her husband. Tina was in a wheel chair and had to fight to be released from the hospital to attend. Since her husband is a doctor, the hospital finally gave in. Tina had a major skull fracture from assault. Her head was still wrapped and her face so swollen she was almost not recognizable. Tina announced to us yesterday that she would be retiring from the FBI effective immediately. It seems she agreed with her husband’s arguments that she had a more important role to play in life as a wife and mother. I could not agree with him more. As Brenda left the grave site, she kissed me on the forehead and handed me an envelope, something that she said Stephanie wanted me to have.

Sitting there, alone, looking at the headstone and the unopened envelope in my hand, I am not sure I will ever make sense of everything that happened. So many things happened in the days leading up to and right after our capture, that I am not even sure where to start.

Stephanie had told Brenda during our visit that she felt something was not right with the whole group we had been working with, and something was being staged to happen. The fact that we were given permission to go to Phoenix without an escort confirmed her suspicions. She said that Doctor Barbra Carson helped her by getting two sub dermal GPS tracking devices from the CIA, where Dr. Carson was truly employed, and confirmed by Mike, and implanted the tracking devices in Stephanie and Jill, without Jill’s or Smith’s knowledge. Stephanie gave that information and the device frequencies to Brenda, with instructions to give the information to Mike as soon as we left. I was left in the dark, according to Brenda, because Stephanie felt we needed to let things play out, and I would have tried to stop them. She would have been right.

Brenda told the story to Mike on the Wednesday evening that we left mom’s house. At first, Mike thought it was just a big conspiracy theory, or paranoia at play. However, he decided he would go to the airport Thursday morning to see us off, without telling anyone. Not only did we not arrive at the airport that morning, but neither did the Lear. Mike called the local police and found Tina with a cracked skull and the two other agents on the detail drugged in the basement parking lot. At the same time, Brenda called Paula Rienfelt and discovered that not only was she not in a relationship with Ryan Sloan, she had not seen or heard from him since the barbeque at my house.

Mike immediately sent the tracking device information to Washington and started rattling the political cages for information. Throughout the day, Thursday and most of Friday, some startling and frightening information was surfacing. First of all, the CIA did not have, not had they ever had, an employee by the name of Joshua Smith in any position, let alone the position of Senior Supervisor of Field Operations, a position that did not exist. They did have a Doctor Barbra Carson, who, sadly, had been found in her car at the bottom of the Potomac River that Thursday afternoon, the result of a tragic accident being explained as brake failure. However, no one could explain why she was driving on that pier, which was nowhere near her home, or office.

The Virginia State Police reported responding to the report of a gunshot at the home on Dr. Ivan Vasnev, where they found the former Dr. Vasnev, in his study, where he had placed a .38 caliber revolver to his head and pulled the trigger. The suicide note found at the scene said he was overly despondent at his wife leaving him and his failing health.

Mike also had agents contact both the Phoenix and Tucson airports to collect the tail numbers of the Lear jet that had made many stops in both places. A records search on the tail numbers revealed it was registered to an Insurance company based out of Kansas, and the actual jet the numbers belonged to was a Gulfstream, not a Lear. FBI agents that visited the company and collected the flight records discovered that not only was the jet truly not a Lear, it was not configured as I had described and collected flight records show it had never been in either airport in Arizona.

With all of this information in hand, Mike had to get the director of the FBI to pull in the Director of the CIA, Homeland Security, and the Presidential Advisor on National Security before he could get authorization to activate a SEAL team to come to our rescue. The GPS tracking data located us on a small island in Los Roques archipelago, in the Caribbean Sea.

The only person to leave the island that night alive, besides the rescue team, was me. All four of the girls had been killed in a shootout with the SEALs, as was Charkov and four local men. Vivian Vasnev was shot in the head a close range with what appeared to be a 10mm. The best theory is Vivian had to have been shot by Stephanie, as she was the only one there with a 10mm. Neither Anya nor Robert Brajovik were found of the island, and their boat was missing. However, three days later the boat was found adrift one hundred miles east of Guadeloupe with no one on board.

Because a U.S Navy SEAL team performed an assault on foreign soil, without Presidential approval, a Federal inquiry was started, and in the first few days enough evidence was presented to escalate the case to a national pitch. The FBI and CIA were the primary whipping dogs with the most to explain. How of this could all been going on for so many months without Congress or the Office of the President knowing anything about it needed to be explained, as could how the CIA could be operating missions on US soil, which was strictly prohibited. Mike was able to obtain the only known photograph of Joshua Smith from the office camera at the FBI office in Phoenix and the congressional oversight committee was having a field day with the CIA on how someone that was not a CIA employee could be directing as many assets as he appeared to be, without the CIA knowing about. There were still eight unaccounted for victims, at least one of which, we believed to be operational somewhere in the world.

I was personally relieved of duties, which I told Mike were duties I really didn’t want right now anyway, by being put on administrative leave, awaiting possible disciplinary actions. Part of me wanted to find these people and make them pay for what they did to Stephanie and others. However, part of me just wanted to crawl away and hide somewhere, and pretend the whole thing was a dream. There may come a day that I will be willing to rejoin the hunt, but not today, not now. The emotions and the wounds are too raw, the objectivity is gone. I don’t know who Smith is or where he and the Brajoviks are, but I am definitely not in their league. As Stephanie said once, I am just a Boy Scout, I have a lot to learn.

With Mike’s help, I was able to get Stephanie’s body sent back to Tucson as the Federal inquiry continued. I contacted Stephanie’s parents in Colorado to try to tell them what happened to their child and find out if they wanted her sent back there. I was told in no uncertain terms that their son had disgraced them years ago, and they had no desire to hear anything about the disgraceful life she lived or wanted their grandchild to know of her father.

More for selfish reasons, than any other, I took Stephanie home to Tucson and laid her to rest next to the desert from which she came, nearly a year ago. She had brought to me a new vision of life, a new understanding of love and the ability to dream where I didn’t think dreams could exist. In the short time that I knew her, she had become my best friend. I loved her with all my heart and saying goodbye to her that day was the hardest thing I have ever done. I did not want to leave her, if I did, I felt that I would lose her forever, and I was not ready to let go. I sat there, looking at the headstone and the envelope. I didn’t want to open it, but knew I had to. I carefully unsealed the flap and removed the single sheet of paper within.

My Dearest Darling

If you are reading this, it means what I feared would happen, has, and I am no longer with you. I am so very sorry for the pain you are feeling right now, but I think this is probably, the best way it could end. My life was taken from me, and though you tried very hard to give it back to me, it was not possible. My body was so damaged that the end was inevitable. My kidneys and my liver were already failing, and the doctors felt I had only a few years.

If I would have lived, you would have cared for me, and I would have cherished your love, but I would have been a burden to you, which is not a life I would want to live. This way I go to my death carrying your love in my heart, and knowing that someone truly loved me, which is a gift I can never thank you for enough. You gave to me the one gift that I had never received in my life, your unfaltering love, the courage to dream, and the feeling of a family.

I am sorry that I deceived you in the end, but you know you would not have supported my plan. I needed to bring this to an end, one way or the other. Either you needed to be free of me, or we needed to be free of them. Now, my Love, I hope that you will carry forward with an untarnished memory of my love for you. Take your time to grieve, but then move on and find another, for you have much love to give, and you are a man worth loving.

So with this, I say my final goodbye. My Darling, I loved you so very, very much.

Yours forever:

Stephanie

Dear Readers
Though this may be the final chapter of “The Princess of the Desert”, it is not the end of the story. This story will continue in the sequel “Tears of the Princess” coming soon to BCTS
MT