POW Pt. 01

The elevator opened at the penthouse floor. Before them was a single door, from which drifted the cacophony of many voices speaking at once. There were two black-suited Americans standing by either side of the door, with earpieces in their ears. Melanie glanced at each quickly; his ramrod-straight posture told her that the one on the right was ex-military. She was still dressed as a harem slave, but she now adopted her formal army air. She marched right up to the man, saluted, and said gruffly "Sir! PFC Melanie Riordan, US 5th Army, reporting, Sir!"

The man was taken aback. "Is this some kind of a joke?" he demanded. He recognized the name, she was sure of that, but she was supposed to be in Iraq. She was acting army and speaking English with no accent, but the way she was dressed was hardly army. In fact, with her hand up in the saluting position, her vest pulled open such that her one breast was spilling out. It took all of his resolve to keep his eyes focused on her, not it, but from the peripheral view it appeared... lovely...

"Sir. No Sir!" She responded like she was in boot camp again. "I am PFC Melanie Riordan, US 5th Army, Social Security Number xxx-xx-xxxx. I was captured in Iraq and have been held prisoner here in Akbar, Sir!"

He glanced at the other three, who stood nervously by the elevator. It was all up to Melanie now. "OK, hold on sister. Relax," he said, gesturing downward with his hand.

"Sir?" Melanie responded, holding her salute, not biting on his invitation.

The man looked in her eyes for a moment. He was trying to remember the pictures he'd seen of the missing soldier. He didn't recall them well enough to ID her, but they didn't seem to rule her out, either. "At ease." Immediately Melanie dropped the salute and assumed the at ease position. He paused, then said "I don't know who you are, but it's a serious crime to be impersonating a soldier that is MIA..."

"Sir, I am not impersonating, Sir. I am PFC Melanie Riordan."

"Where's your uniform?"

"Stolen, Sir. Dog tags too, Sir. You can check my identity with my fingerprint, Sir!"

He made a face and scoffed "I'm in a hotel in the middle of Akbar. How am I supposed to do that, with a magnifying glass?"

"No Sir! With your U.S. State Department-issued laptop, Sir!"

The man frowned now. She seemed to know he would have one, and she seemed to know that all state-department computers had thumb-readers for security. He wasn't ready to let on just yet, though. "What good is that going to do? Even if you are who you say you are, you wouldn't be an authorized user. It wouldn't know your fingerprint."

"Sir. You can use the input device to scan my fingerprint, Sir! Then you can cross-check with the National Security Administration database, Sir!"

She was right, and he could tell she knew it. It was impossible, but he was suddenly beginning to believe that this half-naked woman standing in front of him might just possibly be who she said she was. He put his hand to his ear and spoke into it. "Frank, you better get up here. We have situation."

In two minutes another black-suit burst through the fire escape. Then he did a double-take—this was not the kind of situation he was expecting. The man came over and whispered to him. He looked at Melanie and nodded his head towards the stairwell, saying "Follow me."

"Sir! These are my fellow prisoners, sir! Their lives are in great danger if they are seen, sir."

"Very well. Bring them along. It doesn't look like you could hide a gun if you wanted to." They followed him down on flight of stairs to a small suite. There a mini-command post was set up, with three laptops performing various tasks. He picked one up that showed the local weather radar. Minimizing that window, he did some clicking until another program was open, showing a big, blank blue box. "OK, now run your finger over the reader like this," and he ran his index finger over the reader bar. She did, but instead of her index finger the used her thumb. She knew that it was the thumbprint that would be imaged in the database. Frank smiled to himself as he took the laptop back and submitted the image for search. She hadn't fallen for his trick; he was convinced before the match was even confirmed it that she was who she said she was. He said nothing to Melanie when the match came through, but instead spoke into his earpiece. "Better get the Ambassador down here, Joe. He's gonna want to see this."

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The Ambassador was at first testy to be called out of his reception. Then he was stunned at the sight of four half-naked women standing in the room. He was downright flabbergasted when told that one of them was a soldier missing in Iraq. She told him about her capture, transport to Akbar, and her being used as a slave. The more she said, the more incensed the Ambassador became. "We're going to get you out of here, now," he growled.

"Please sir," Melanie requested in her army demeanor, "my companions have been fellow captives. Two of them are not US citizens, but if they are not protected, they will certainly be executed by the locals."

"Temporary asylum granted," the Ambassador pronounced. "Frank, call the airport—we're leaving early. Joe, call the cars, tell them we want to be ready in ten minutes. Manny—you go back upstairs and get that prick Sheikh Amid down here. I'd like to see him try to explain this."

Melanie actually felt a little sorry for Sheikh Amid. The ranking government official hosting this event, he didn't even know that some of his countrymen kept Western sex slaves. He was escorted into the room to the greeting "just how do you explain THIS Amid?" The Sheikh was stunned, blinking—and unable to keep from staring at the girls. A pious Muslim, he had never seen such a blatant display of female flesh.

"What is this?" he asked.

"THIS is PFC Melanie Riordan, US 5th Army. MIA in Iraq three months ago. How is it she ends up dressed like this in Akbar?" Having no clue, the poor Amid sputtered incomprehensibly. The Ambassador cut him off.

"This reception is over. We are leaving this place at once. You will be hearing from us again about your treatment of American soldiers." And with that he stormed out of the suite. The girls followed; his escort frantically packed up shop and came last, leaving Sheikh Amir standing by himself in the suite. Melanie wondered how he had broken the news to the reception upstairs that the Ambassador had suddenly left. Then she wondered how Maulana would react when he got home and discovered his harem empty. She thought about Abdullah; she didn't think her blow would kill him, but as far as she was concerned he deserved it if he did. And best of all, she didn't have to worry about it either way.

The limousines started pulling away from the hotel and towards the airport. Melanie and Heather shared the Ambassador's limo with Frank; he was on the phone, telling the state department that his planned trip to Iraq was cancelled and he was coming home. They rushed to the airport and were airborne within the hour. All four of them were wearing ill-fitting Air Force uniforms, the only spare clothes that could be located during their hurried exodus. Sasha was positively giddy; not only was she out of Akbar, she was headed to the US—a destination she hadn't even dared to dream of when she first left her home country. Chin Li was nervous; she didn't speak very much English and servicing men was the only life she'd really ever known. She didn't know what the future held for her and feared being sent back to her home country, which could conceivably be even WORSE than Akbar. Heather was using an air phone and having a very tearful reunion with her family, to whom she'd been a missing person since first running away.

Melanie closed her eyes and leaned wearily against the window. She just felt relieved that the plan had worked; she didn't feel any particular sense of accomplishment at the amazing escape they had just pulled off. She just felt like a nightmare was ending, and couldn't wait to get home and leave it all behind. She didn't understand yet that she could never leave it all behind, because her experience had changed her in ways she would never have predicted. She expected to be picking up the life she'd led before. She would have to learn the hard way that the old Melanie was gone forever, and the person that now inhabited her skin was a person she didn't know at all.