THE SCORPION WAS AWAKENED by the most hideous sound he had ever heard: the scraping of his coffin lid as it closed over him. He opened his eyes and saw only blackness. He tried to fight the panic bubbling up inside him. But the thought of being trapped forever in the dark was overwhelming. A groan escaped his lips.

“Oh dear God, it’s alive!” a frightened female voice cried out in the darkness and he suddenly remembered everything. The scraping sound was the heavy stone that sealed the old well being rolled back into place. He was trapped, like a fly in a bottle.

“Please, if you’re alive, say something,” the frightened female voice said. She was very near. He could feel her breath on his cheek.

“Hello, Kelly,” the Scorpion said.

“Oh God,” she groaned and began to cry. He could feel her tears dripping on to his lips like raindrops. He licked his lips. They tasted salty.

There was a hysterical note somewhere in her crying, like a piano with a bad key, and he knew that she was very close to the edge. He stretched his neck up and grazed her cheek with his lips. It felt as soft as bird’s down.

“So soft,” she murmured and then it hit her. He heard the rustle of her clothes as she sat up sharply in the pitch darkness, the hysterical note giving a stridency to her voice.

“But you’re dead. They shot you,” she said.

“The bullet hit a transmitter over my heart wrapped in a special bullet-proof plastic mesh fabric. Bandar is a world-class shot and I was counting on his accuracy, only I thought he would try a shot at the race, not later on.”

“The race! They mean to kidnap the king!” she exclaimed.

“It’s already happened,” he said.

“And you must be the American agent they were talking about—the Scorpion,” she said.

“I’m here to get you out,” he said.

“Fine job you’re doing of it,” she snorted and it seemed so funny that they both couldn’t help laughing, the sounds of laughter echoing in the well.

“I’ve had better days,” the Scorpion admitted, and that set them both off again. They laughed till their sides hurt and as the echoes died down, somehow the darkness seemed a bit friendlier.

“What are we to do?” she asked at last, a pensive note in her voice. It was an interesting voice, smooth as cream, with a catch in it, and he felt he was truly hearing it for the first time, without the fear. But it had such sadness in it and he sensed how terrible it had been for her.

“I’m taking you home,” he said softly.

“Oh sure. I’ve tried to escape but they keep catching me,” she began bitterly.

“This time we finally have a couple of advantages.”

“Like?”

“For one thing, they think I’m dead.”