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"Teri... Dad's been shot!!" That was the first thing I heard after my ringing phone jerked me out of a very deep sleep. As I picked up my phone I glanced at the bedside clock. It said 3:20 AM. The caller went on.

"Some woman from a company called McGregor Global Shipping called and she said that Dad had been shot and that he and some members of his team were being evacuated to Zurich and that she didn't know his condition or how bad he was or how it happened or where it happened... she said maybe in Somalia... why would Dad be in Somalia? We just can't stand not knowing... we thought you might be able to find out more... and we were so worried..."

"Megan... Megan! Slow down... let me wake up a bit and get something to write with. I had recognized Megan Connors voice as she had told me the dreadful news. Images of Michael lying on the cold marble floor of the bank in LA flooded my memory and chilled my blood. I forced down a desperate feeling of helplessness and nausea. "My God Michael what have you got yourself into." I thought.

"Megan?"

"Yes."

"Now just slow down and tell me what happened."

"Teri, just a few minutes ago a lady called me. She said she was from "Global Shipping Limited" in London... she asked if I was Megan Connors. I thought it was some weird crank call since it was three in the morning. I told her I was and was about ready to hang up and go back to sleep when she told me Dad had been shot. She had to tell me twice before I understood. I thought he was in Brussels or somewhere in Europe. I can't believe he was in Africa and I can't believe he's been shot!"

"Megan... Megan calm down.

Silence

"Now, let me get this down... a lady from McGregor Global Shipping International called and said your Dad was shot and was being flown to Zurich... are you sure she said Zurich?"

"Pretty sure... but then I was pretty upset."

"Okay... you keeping saying "we" does that mean Liz is with you... or you've called her?"

"Liz is here... we were up late working on the wedding plans... and she stayed over. Oh my God... my wedding's in eight weeks... and Dad's supposed to give me away... do I need to postpone the wedding?"

"Megan... calm down... just hang tight until I can get some answers. I'll call Global... they might need to confirm with you they can talk to me... so stay by the phone. You can just tell them I've been hired to represent you... all right?"

"Okay."

"If I don't get the information from Global, then I'll call some folks I know at State Department who can tell me who I might call at the US Embassy in Switzerland."

"Thanks so much Teri... we didn't know who else to call. We know how much you care about Dad and that you would probably have the resources to find him and find out how he's doing. Sorry to wake you, especially on a Saturday."

"That's alright Megan. I'll call you as soon as I've heard anything. I've got your cell number and home phone too."

Thanks Teri... we were just so worried."

"I know... but since he's on his way to Zurich that means he's still alive... at least we know that."

I heard a sniffle on the other end.

"Megan?"

"Yes."

"It'll be all right... your Dad is pretty tough. He's been through it before." I grimaced as I thought of that day in LA.

Sniffle. "Thanks Teri for being such a good friend."

"Oh... Megan... have you told your mother yet?"

"No... should we? I mean she's such a freak these days... with... well... with what she did to Dad and his leaving and all... she would just scream "It's all my fault!" and then go to pieces. It's been over four months and Liz and I are trying to help her... but sometimes we just hate her for what she did to Dad and us."

"Megan, lets keep this a secret from Helene for a little while. At least until I can get some idea of his injuries and where he is. Okay?"

"Okay."

"And Megan, don't forget she's your mother and she loves you and Liz. I know she still loves your father and always has... she just made a huge mistake and she's paying the price."

"Teri... do you think they'll ever get back together?"

"I don't know Megan... I just don't know. If you father didn't love your mother so much he wouldn't have been so hurt. Maybe this time away from her has helped him deal with what she did."

"Maybe... I sure wish he'd just come home... thanks again Teri... just let us know."

"I will."

I hung up the phone and sat on the edge of my bed for a long time. I was sick with worry. I had almost lost Michael once before and I couldn't stand the thought of him lying hurt in a hospital somewhere without me.

"What the hell was he doing in Somalia anyway? And he was being flown to Zurich with some "members of his team"? What team? The last I had heard from Michael he was in Brussels. I'd received a postcard just as few days ago. Where are you Michael and what the hell have you been up too?"

The last four months had been a jumble of emotions for me too. I felt adrift — Michael was gone from my life for the first time in almost nine years. I missed him terribly. I had come to rely on Michael and early on he had brought me in on the Charos buy out and merger. He wanted deep background investigations on old man Charos, his family and all the senior officers of his firm. Michael hated surprises and unfortunately, Helene had given him the biggest one of his life.

Michael and I had a standing weekly meeting where I brought him up to date on Charos, and I probably spoke to him on the telephone two or three times a week, plus we had our monthly lunch date. It really was more like a date to me. We rarely discussed business. It was just a nice time to relax and talk about our lives, catch up on the latest happenings around town with perhaps a little gossip thrown in, although neither of us ever discussed clients that we didn't have in common. Our lunches were always at Boulevard on Mission and Steuart near the Embarcadero and Michael always got us a table with a view of the water. I always made sure I looked my best on those days. About year ago even my daughter, Cassie started to notice.

"You sure do look pretty today Mommy... I'll bet you're having lunch with Mr. Connors."

"Yes, honey, I am... he's a very important client of my company... so it always pays to look my best."

Now that she was eight she had become even more perceptive.

"Mom, I think you really like Mr. Connors... I sure do."

Michael came to our firm's summer picnic each year, without Helene of course. He played all the games and I usually found him with a sleeping Cassie draped across his lap while quietly sitting under a tree, a kid's book close at hand. Last Christmas he took Cassie shopping for a day, which included lunch at a nice restaurant. Michael never forgot her birthday or mine even during the busy time putting the Charos deal together. One afternoon he surprised the heck out of me by showing up at Cassie's school play. He even went so far as to discuss this relationship with Megan and Liz. They told him in no uncertain terms that his love for Cassie made them only love him more. In fact, now that she was eight and mature for her age, Megan and Liz recently began inviting Cassie on some of their shopping expeditions. They treated her like a younger sister. Their relationship with Cassie also brought me closer to Megan and Liz. Helene knew about Cassie; Michael never tried to hide it. Unfortunately to Helene we were a threat to her marriage even though Michael was devoted to her.

Over these last few months I had revisited the meeting at their house, and Helene's accusations. Michael's close relationship with Cassie and our close working relationship certainly did not sit well with her narcissistic view of the world and her marriage. I came to realize that as his relationship with Helene unraveled his bond with us became stronger. Was our relationship with Michael a triggering point, or just another excuse for a selfish and self centered Helene to have an affair?

Cassie missed him too, although Liz and Megan went out of their way to keep including Cassie and they had even asked her to be a flower girl in Megan's upcoming January wedding. Christmas was almost here and they were going to take her shopping but she really wanted to go with Michael.

"Mom... when's Mr. Connors going to come home? It's almost Christmas and he promised we would go shopping every year."

"I know he did honey... but I don't know when he'll be back... but don't forget in a few days Liz and Megan will take you."

"I really like them... it's like having two big sisters. Jennie at school hates her big sisters but I love mine... but it's not the same as with Mr. Connors."

I hugged her. Cassie was tall and mature for her age and had the makings of a blond heart breaker, but she was still a little girl.

And whenever I got a post card Cassie got one. Michael had sailed on all kinds of ships and sent a card from every port. I kept them in the drawer in my nightstand next to my bed.

The one letter I got from him was from Yokohama about two weeks after he left.

"Dearest Teri,

I miss you and Cassie. There I said it. The one thing you have when you're a passenger on a large container ship is lots of time. Every day I walk several miles, circumnavigating the giant deck clockwise on the odd days and counter clockwise on the even days. Being a speck in the middle of the Pacific tends to focus one's attention inward. I can feel myself healing but surprisingly the hurt is being supplanted by memories of you and Cassie and all our wonderful times together.

Each day I think about our dinner in Palm Springs. I'm glad you convinced me to go somewhere quiet and private instead of the Country Club, (even though I wanted to show you off!) You made me smile and then laugh and I finally realized how much you care about me. And when you hugged me at the airport for such a long time I felt surrounded by your love. You tried to smile as I brushed a tear from your beautiful cheek. Teri, I find myself wanting more of those hugs and more of those meals together, but I never want to see tears except in joy. I don't know when I'll be back, but I will be back. And when I do I want desperately to hold you and feel your arms around me. Teri, thank you for being my friend, my confidant, and my compass to show me the way home. Your Michael"

I cried when I read it. Michael did not say he loved me... it was too soon for that but as we parted at the Palm Springs airport after I clung to him for a long time... I felt that my soul was complete. I would wait as long as it took for him to come home.

I kept his letter with me. I didn't need to read it... I had it memorized.

I was happy work kept me busy, especially the Brian Taylor investigation. It took almost a month, but with the help of some friends at Treasury, the IRS and local cops, I put an ironclad file together. After a long meeting, first with the law firm's office manager, and then with the managing partners, I had the satisfaction of seeing Brian Taylor fired from Williamson and Jenkins. He was also indicted for embezzlement, and spent a few days in jail until he could come up with the large bail. The firm would have liked to keep it to the dismissal but the fact that there was a considerable amount of money involved and that the firm was about to be hung out to dry with a number of sexual harassment suits they decided to go after Brian big time. He was also facing charges before the State Bar which could result in the loss of his license. I still kept tabs on him and when last heard he was living with a wealthy divorcée in her home in Pacific Heights. He spent his days writing motions and pestering his defense counsel. If he didn't go to prison, he would most certainly never work in San Francisco again.

Helene was another matter. She had gone to ground almost as completely as Michael. I knew from Liz and Megan that she had taken a generous buyout from Williamson and Jenkins and was now unemployed. She rarely left the house except to go on her daily run or bike ride. She told the girls she wanted to look good when their father came home. Megan told me that Helene had moved a bed into Michael's study so she could be near him. They also said she had stripped the master bedroom of every bit of furniture and she couldn't bear to go in there anymore. For the months, they said, she couldn't walk into that room without bursting into tears.

"Why doesn't she just sell the place?" I asked them.

"Oh no... Mom has convinced herself that Dad will come home and forgive her and they'll go on with their lives in that house. Teri, we know that whatever they do there is no way Dad will ever live in that house again. That makes us sad since we have so many happy memories of that house... but Mom scewing that man in Dad's bed means that they'll have to start over someplace new. What on earth made her hate Dad so much she did that to him?"

"I don't know Liz. Sometimes over a number of years marriages just grow stale... and then one of the partners... or both, will go looking for... for something different. It happens more than you know."

"But dad's such a... well... sexy man. I had friends at college who would have been happy to jump in bed with him!"

Liz laughed. "I know... some of my friends seem overly curious about what he's going to do!"

I decided to change the subject. I didn't want to know about sexy young women lusting after Michael.

"So... she still hasn't signed the settlement agreement?"

"No, she hasn't... and she says she won't until she talks to Dad face to face and tells him how sorry she is and how much she loves him."

Megan added,

"I wish Dad would come home so they can resolve this once and for all. Oh... and Mom is seeing a psychiatrist. She says it is helping her see herself for the selfish bitch she is."

"Megan... stop that!"

"Liz... you know it's true... she says it herself!"

That's how I find out about Helene — reports from Megan and Liz. I don't believe she fully comprehends how she's hurt Michael. She still thinks only of herself and her feelings of guilt and loss. She also still believes she can apologize and make it right.

I still didn't know were it was all going to end up. I had the letter from Michael but he was still married to Helene.

All of a sudden I was back and t was 3:30 Saturday morning.

"I miss you Michael... please don't die... please."

I picked up the phone.

Recovery, Michael

The dream was back - Trapped in the Blackhawk helicopter as it made a precipitous nose over dive toward the earth not far below. I frantically pulled the emergency release on the copilot's door. The tracers fired from the heavy caliber machinegun illuminated the darkness and I could feel the rounds slamming into the fuselage like a sledgehammer. The pilot struggled to regain control. Directly behind me the door gunner fired his M-60 as we fell, trying to knock out the gun that was tearing us apart. I could feel the muzzle blast on the back of my neck. The pilot got us level just as we hit the soft sand near the beach. The bullet went through my thigh as I finally got the door open and tumbled out onto the still-warm tropical sand. I yelled in surprise and pain.

I jerked awake.

"Are you all right Michael?"

"No... yes... yes... Gina... I'm fine.

"Dreams again? Do you want something to make you sleep? Are you in pain?

"No, I'm fine Gina... the leg just hurts a little... I'll try to go back to sleep."

She sat on the edge of the big bed. Gina was "Angelina", a tall, slender and dark-haired Ukrainian beauty, who was my nurse. The light from the open door into her bedroom silhouetted her. She was wearing ivory colored silk pajamas that accented her curves. She had come in from the adjoining room of the suite when she heard me cry out in my sleep.

"Maybe I'll stay for a little while."

She sat next to me on the bed and felt my forehead. I just looked at her. She was beautiful, shoulder length dark brown hair, and luminous green eyes, and maybe half my age. Her nipples were hard against the silk.

"You look cold..."

She moved under the covers.

Four weeks later I was flying home from Zurich in a large private jet, compliments of Global Shipping Ltd. I had been asleep in the small bed in the aft cabin. I woke to find Gina's warm naked body pressed against me. We took our time making love. We both knew it could be the last time we would be together.

Afterwards I held her and watched her sleep. I pushed a strand of her dark hair away from her beautiful face and she smiled in her sleep at my touch. Out the window from 35,000 feet I could see the Great Plains. It was December and much was covered with an unbroken white blanket.

I thought about my relationship with Gina.

Gina had surprised me when she first came to my bed in the Global suite in Zurich. The next morning she caressed me and smiled her wonderful smile. Almost purring she said,

"A good nurse takes care of her patient in every way."

In the ensuing weeks I discovered that she had a genuine affection for me despite the difference in our ages, and I felt the same way. She told me about her father's dream to live in the United States and how they won the immigration lottery and picked Silicon Valley as their new home because of his extensive software development background. Gina was recruited out of her nursing school class with an offer from Global. She loved flying and nursing and Global was a company which cared about its employees. They quickly sent a medical evacuation plane to all parts of the world so their injured crews and in some cases family members wouldn't be exposed to vagaries of local medical systems. They had very loyal employees and the turnover of crews that plagued the industry was hardly felt by Global.

Her usual job was to accompany, along with a physician, injured seamen and other employees to a regional medical center, or if needed the big medical center in Zurich. She assured me that the employees and executives at Global "were perfect gentlemen" and never even insinuated she should have sex with any of them or their clients. She did admit that she got asked out frequently, but mostly she declined.

One day while we were having a late lunch in an intimate place in Zurich she confessed that her life was so busy she had little time for a relationship.

"So where do I fit in?" I tried to tease her — "A Global Limited ship passing in the night?"

To my surprise, she reached across the table and covered my hand and looked away, seemingly taken by the autumn scenery and beautiful Lake Zurich.

Every day she got me out for a walk to exercise my leg. Fortunately I had received what the military would call "a million dollar" wound. That is one where the bullet or other piece of enemy hardware passes through your body and during its journey doesn't hit anything major, so it doesn't require a lot of treatment and usually heals quickly. Well that may have been true but being shot is bloody painful and "million dollar" wound or not it is more than an inconvenience - something about the human body objecting to a high speed projectile or hunk of shrapnel passing through it. The surgeons in Zurich were quite good with gunshot wounds and I was soon discharged under Gina's care, to an exclusive hotel owned by Global.

After what appeared to be some serious thought, Gina finally looked back at me.

"Michael... you confuse me. I've never met a man like you. You are hurt in body and soul and... and from reports from others on your team... capable of incredible violence to others who threaten those in your care. But you keep all that hidden. You make me laugh with your humor and smile with your gentleness... and you love children. And you make love to me like I'm the only woman in the world. You are a man I could easily fall in love with. I've never been confused about a man before... and I do know that when you go home I will miss you terribly."

"I will miss you too Gina... terribly."

We held hands as we walked the cobblestone streets back to the small hotel and then we spent the rest of that autumn afternoon making love in the big feather bed.

Gina was bright, articulate and funny and she spoke with just a hint of an accent which made her seem more exotic. She was balm for my soul and body and the feel of her exquisite skin revived me again and again.

Her ministrations healed me and there was no doubt I was glad to be alive. By all odds I shouldn't have been. Helicopters can be fragile aircraft, especially when pounded by machinegun fire.

Who said, "No plan survives first contact with the enemy"? Whoever it was had it right.

Gina mewed softly in her sleep and then settled back against me. The flight was smooth. It was if we had a private bedroom in the sky. I thought about my experience taking care of "McGregor's" pirates.

Our plan... that is the plan for two dozen mercenaries, six pilots, twelve flight crew, and myself was to take on a band of very dangerous and well armed pirates encamped on an island off the coast Somalia. I recruited my team from former British and American forces who were in Europe or the Middle East. A few were already on the payroll of Global. The Sergeant Major, a Brit and retired Special Air Service, (SAS motto: Who Dares Wins) and I interviewed them and picked the best — that is men, and one woman without criminal backgrounds, non heavy drinkers and those who would pass a drug screen, and most importantly people who were good at killing with various weapons, or were skilled helicopter pilots. We ended up with a well-disciplined crew who were going to be well paid for a night's work off the coast of Somalia. I was the new Chief of Security (interim) for McGregor Global Shipping Ltd. And our job was to wipe out the pirates who had been dogging the shipping between the Seychelles Islands off Somalia to the port of Djibouti on the southern tip of the Red Sea. Their island was within the territorial waters of Somalia and received tacit permission to operate from whatever group of thugs constituted the government of Somalia at the time. Official objections to Somalia were met with silence or claims that it was nothing more than a fishing village.

I had become Chief of Security against my own best judgment. On a voyage from Sri Lanka to Suez I had the pleasure of the company of the President and CEO of Global. One week out of every quarter he sailed on one of his ships. He would just show up somewhere in the world and climb aboard. He was a gregarious Scotsman, named Stuart McGregor. This ruggedly handsome man about 60, after finding out about my law enforcement background (and checking up on me with his old buddy Stan Charos) offered me the position.

We were seated in his, the "masters" cabin, and sharing a bottle of well-aged Port, and a couple of Cuban cigars, somewhere in the Indian Ocean.

"Michael... soon we will be entering some of the most dangerous waters on this planet.

"Dangerous? How so?"

"Pirates, Michael... pirates under the protection of a corrupt government. He blew smoke from his cigar.

"Lately they've become even bolder, even attacking a cruise ship last year. Their prey becomes larger because they have acquired more sophisticated weapons and boats. This is costing me and everyone in the shipping business big money in extra security and prevention measures. I hate to spend money to prevent something that should be handled by governments. Had the attack on the cruise ship been successful and several hundred passengers and crew killed, and all the women raped and many sold into slavery... I wonder what the governments of the world would have done then? These days anything smaller than a cruise ship is fair game. Hundreds of small ships and pleasure boats have been seized and their crews slaughtered or taken. If the world won't take action I need to. I want them to go away. He paused to take a deep drag on his cigar. I want them destroyed... eradicated like the vermin they are.

I knew he was coming to a point so I just stayed silent.

"Michael, I've come to know you on this voyage. You're honest and obsessed with details." He took another sip of his Port. "Michael I want you to take the job as my Chief of Security."

I thought he was building up to offering me a job with Global but I was astounded by his offer. He explained his current chief was retiring in just a few days and he had been unable to find a replacement despite hundreds of resumes and dozens of interviews.

"Michael, before you answer... I must tell you that I have checked on you thoroughly. Your modesty in our conversations becomes you but paints an inaccurate picture. You have the law enforcement, management, and the attention to detail experience I need. You have been tested more than once and have proven yourself. You took your small law firm and made it a major player in northern California and more importantly in the international merger arena. I also know you're on sabbatical out here at sea because you are divorcing your wife of 25 years because she was unfaithful to you.

"What gives you the right... ?" I resented his prying into my background. I hadn't even applied for the job!

He cut me off.

"Look Michael... I count myself as a good judge of people. I need you right now and you need me. You can't just sail away from your life. You are who you are and unless I have completely misjudged you... you will be looking for something to do sooner than later."

I sat there looking at him. I took a long drink and puffed on my cigar mulling over his assessment of me. He was probably right. It had been only two months and I was bored already, but I wasn't ready to return to San Francisco.

McGregor the wily negotiator said nothing.

"Okay... I'll do it... but only as interim... say for the next twelve months... or until you find a replacement... whichever is shorter."

He stuck out his hand.

"Welcome, Michael... welcome to Global Shipping... now what the hell are you going to do about those damn pirates?"

With remarkable speed McGregor had one of his container ships fitted out with a wooden flight deck that would hold our five Blackhawk helicopters and one Apache gunship. We would take four choppers in to carry the ground assault troops, and the Apache would do its job creating mayhem from the air. The fifth Blackhawk was my tactical platform where, if all went well, I would direct the action from a safe distance from above. McGregor made it very clear that I was not to be involved in the ground action. I was happy to comply. I only had six pilots so there were no copilots. That was a risk I decided to take. Each Blackhawk carried two gunners and the Apache had its array of lethal weapons to include eight Hellfire missiles, 76, 2.75 inch rockets and a 30mm cannon. The Apache gunship was to blast the moored ships that carried the pirates out to their vulnerable prey. We had real time satellite imagery, compliments of the Israelis. We lifted off from the ship and flew into the predawn darkness, the pilots wearing night vision goggles.

We did what we came there for — a three a.m. strike caught the pirates sleeping or hung-over or whatever pirates do at that time of the morning. What we didn't expect was their numbers and the large number of carefully hidden heavy machine guns. Later I found out there were more than twice the one hundred pirates we expected. Fortunately surprise and ferocity and combat experience was on our side. I had hired pros and they proved their worth that night. I lost some good people but the pirates lost everything.

I dozed again as I watched the snow covered Great Plains below.

Gina's Story

I didn't want to fall in love with Michael. I didn't want to fall in love with anyone. My life was fun and rewarding and not as glamorous as my parent's thought, but it paid well and for someone twenty-eight I had all I wanted — at least I thought so.

I watched Michael sleep. He affected me like no one I had ever met. I was deeply saddened by the thought that in a few hours he would be wrenched from my life when we landed in San Francisco. I would pretend I was happy that he would be spending Christmas with his daughters, and maybe with his unfaithful wife. I snuggled against him, smelling him and feeling his hard body. He was thinner than he should be but he had well defined muscles in all the right places. I had worked him hard as part of his physical therapy — swimming laps until he could hardly crawl from the pool and weight training to build and restore muscle. I was proud that he had recovered so well from his leg wound. I just wished I could do a better job with his mental state. He took it very hard that six of his team was killed and six wounded. I found it miraculous any survived considering the undertaking.

But when he made love to me, I felt like the luckiest woman in the world. I touched the large emerald and ruby pendent that hung between my breasts. It was my Christmas present. "God I don't want to love him!"