Both of the women facing her wore stout black leather boots with dark blue trousers tucked into puttees. They had on crisply starched, dark green, short sleeve shirts. Their dark hair was cut short and both wore dark green peaked caps with badges proclaiming the National Guard.

'Now, lie face down on that couch.'

'Why?' Zoe objected.

'Lie face down on the couch,' the woman ordered.

'I want to speak with a representative of the British Embassy,' Zoe demanded, glancing anxiously at the door and quickly assessing her chances of escape. The two young women made no answer but closed upon her, glancing as they did so at the large wall mirror, that Zoe was now certain must be a another mirror window.

'Lie down on the bench so that we can conclude our search of you, then you will be allowed to go.'

Like hell I will, thought Zoe, certain now that this was no routine search. Somehow they must know who she was? How on earth had that happened? Her thoughts were turning to what to do next when the door opened and a man in similar uniform to the women entered the room, quickly shutting and locking the door behind him. Distracted by the man, before she had time to respond, the two women seized her wrists, jerking her arms in opposite directions.

Immediately Zoe's training took over. She swiftly jerked her right arm free from the younger girl and aimed a karate blow against the other woman. The young girl though grabbed her arm again, spoiling her blow. A sharp punch to her stomach momentarily winded her and a hand chopping down on the back of her neck stunned her and she crumpled to her knees.

Before she could recover her senses properly the man briskly stepped forwards and pressed a thick pad of cotton wool firmly against her face. His hand clasped her hair at her nape and held her head forward into the cotton wool and an overpowering chemical smell assailed her. The two female guards pinned her arms and held her down, for a few seconds she struggled ineffectually, then her body went slack as she was forced to breathe in the chloroform.

When she regained consciousness she found herself lying on her back on the bench. There was the cool feel of leather tight around her wrists and ankles. Her arms were stretched out above her head and her legs were widely spread. Trying to move she realised, with dismay, that her arms and legs were held in place by taut straps clipped to the leather cuffs around her ankles and wrists.

'Are the British not looking for her yet, Major?'

'There was no-one waiting to meet her in the airport and she had a room booked at a hotel. The official story is that she was last seen leaving the airport by taxi. The British can hardly accuse us of lying can they? They're far too polite for that.'

Zoe felt her heart sink as she listened to the voices. Another man was in the room talking with the first.

'She's awake, look.'

'So Miss Farquerson, you are with us again. I trust you enjoyed your little sleep?'

'My name is Zara Chambers... I don't know who you think I am, but I'm just...'

'Please, spare us your fanciful story,' the man she'd not seen before laughed mildly. He was an Arab, short and rotund and wearing a western suit.

'Really, you have to believe me, I'm a journalist, my name's Chambers, haven't you seen my passport?' Zoe lifted her head from the bench so that she could get a clearer view of the man.

'We know the bitch is lying,' growled the other man, who wore the uniform of a Captain in the National Guard, 'let's see how long she takes to change her story.'

'Please... listen, you've got to believe me, my name is Zara Chambers.'

'I think it's time we help you remember your true name,' said the Arab in the western suit, 'tell your women to start on her.'

'Certainly Major. It will be a pleasure,' said the Guards Captain, 'the bitch will soon be begging to tell us everything she knows.'

As if in a nightmare from which she couldn't wake Zoe listened to the sound of the women's boots cross the stone floor.

'Please... I don't know anything...'

'Why are you looking so anxious, little English girl?' the small Arab asked.

The older of the two female guards reached out and stroked Zoe's hair clear of her face.

'You have to believe me... my name's Chambers...'

'There is still time for you to be spared suffering.'

As the man spoke, the woman stroked her hand down Zoe's chest, circling her breasts with her fingers. Zoe's breathing was coming in short urgent gasps as she glanced anxiously about her.

'Get your hands off me! You can't do this! You won't get away with this. I'm a British citizen, if you...'

'Spare us please your protestations,' the Arab in the suit smiled down at her with scarcely contained amusement, 'Firstly, let us say that you have been stopped as a suspect for drugs trafficking. Now, we are going to conduct a body search. Hardly something your government can object to, especially when carried out by two women. I assure you that the Captain and myself would not dream of touching your body. So Miss Chambers that is all that is happening. Of course, if you wish to admit to us that Chambers is not your name and that you are a British spy, then I should look favourably upon such a voluntary admission.'

'My name's Chambers and I haven't done anything wrong!'

'So you say, but I am afraid we are still obliged and entitled to search you. Do you know where some people hide drugs? I am afraid that in case you have swallowed some we will have to give you, umm, what is the English word... it escapes me for the moment. Let me put it this way, we will put a mixture into your bowels to make them empty.'

'No, you can't do this...' Zoe blurted.

'I am so sorry for you, I have been told that it can be a little uncomfortable,' the man smiled with blatant insincerity.

'Please... let me go...' Zoe looked around frantically from one face to another. The short balding Arab in the creased suit looked down at her, his sham smile of apology turning to a malicious grin.

'Of course, occasionally the mixture that is fed into the bowels through the anus is not correctly measured. It has to be hot to encourage the body to expel what it is holding. Sometimes, the girls mixing the spices for the paste we use put too much of something in and the effects can be quite distressing. Really quite distressing...'

'You bastard! If you torture me, then...'

'Good heavens! Who suggested such a thing? No, no, my dear girl. This is a civilised country which welcomes English tourists. All I said was we will have to search your body for drugs.'

'Damn you, I know what you're telling me!' Zoe jerked her arms against the leather wristcuffs and pulled angrily with her legs against the restraints.

'Dear girl, whatever we do to you, your body won't show any marks. And of course it would be your word against ours. Now, spare yourself what is about to happen, admit to us you are a British spy. I am Major Mosafa of the El-Saram Internal Security Service. I know who you are. Enough of this game, the time has come for you to co-operate.'

'No...' Zoe shook her head in denial.

The Guards Captain nodded to the two female guards.

'Go ahead, it's time to persuade the bitch to talk.'

There was an agonising pause, then fingers felt between her buttocks, making Zoe try to jerk away but the leather, closely fastened around her ankles, restrained her.

'What are you doing? Please... don't... I don't know anything1/4believe me, please... no...' Zoe craned her head back as she felt hands drawing apart the globes of her buttocks. The older woman saw her watching her work and she smiled with satisfaction.

'Come now, lie still... there's nothing you can do to stop us,' said the Major.

The younger female guard meshed her fingers into Zoe's long hair and pushed her head firmly back down.