'He left by his own private boat from here, and he took with him two girls and a young man. They're bound for Karunga.'

'Oh my God!' Miles exclaimed. 'I'd better alert London.'

'We've already done so,' the blonde girl smiled smugly, 'Karunga!' Miles moaned. 'This is terrible.'

'Cheer up Miles,' the blonde girl held out her ice cream for him. 'Even as we talk, a rescue helicopter is being loaded with a team of our toughest soldiers. If they can intercept the boat before it reaches Karunga, chances are we'll rescue her. Fancy a lick of my ice-cream?'

Miles, who had been gazing out at the sea looked at the girl and saw her beaming him a smile. Well, perhaps today was going to turn out to be okay after all, he thought to himself.

'Where's the helicopter flying from?' he asked.

'Well, we're lucky; we had a team of marines training in the West Congo. With a bit more luck they'll intercept the boat before it gets to the slave fort.'

'But what if they get there first?' Miles asked, taking another lick from the ice cream the girl held out to him.

'Well in that case, we can say goodbye to another SES girl, poor thing.'

The blonde girl shook her head sadly, then pushing herself down from the stone wall where she was sat, her face brightened.

'Anyone fancy a drink?' she asked.

Giant moths darted towards, then veered away from the naked flames of the torches that the men held aloft. The unseen monkeys in the high treetops screeched, calling to each other. There had been a sudden downpour of heavy rain that had ended as abruptly as it had begun. Now the dense foliage dripped incessantly and the sand under Zoe's bare feet was cool and damp while the air against her bare skin was still so hot the perspiration ran in rivulets down her body.

She followed Auda, her legs weak with fear, her body trembling with nerves as he led her by a leather leash fastened to the collar about her neck. Her arms were drawn tightly behind her back, her wrists bound repeatedly with rope. As she followed him along the narrow path that trailed away from the beach the sand underfoot became strewn with foliage and occasionally she winced as something sharp dug into the soles of her feet. From all around her the men stared, leering and plainly amused by her distress. Their shadowy faces were lit by the torches, whose flames danced in the breeze and gave off the smell of paraffin. In the orange flickering light that punctuated the absolute darkness of the jungle night they looked as ferocious and intimidating as any savages that her imagination could conjure. Some indeed were plainly indigenous natives, wearing only loincloths and animal skins, their sinewy bodies practically naked and long spears and blowpipes held in their hands. Others were Europeans, unkempt in old military jackets and combat fatigues, rifles or machine guns slung over their shoulder. The path climbed higher and the trees closed in obscuring the night sky completely. They came to a high stone wall and the path ended facing a pair of gates set into the moss covered stone. The gates were swung open and Auda tightening his grip on the leash, led Zoe forwards.

Behind her the gates slammed shut with an ominous hollow thud and she glanced back to see two bare broad shouldered men slide a beam of wood across the gates to seal them closed. The men watched her silently as Auda jerked the leash forcing her to stumble after him. The leather felt heavy around her neck and was beginning to chafe her throat. Her shoulders ached from her arms being drawn behind her and she desperately wished that she were anywhere except for this horrible place.

Reaching the veranda of a log cabin they were greeted by a man who Auda knew and the two exchanged pleasantries while Zoe stood obediently at heel. The man, Jose Delgardo, was the commander of the bandits who ran the slave market. Zoe guessed him to be Spanish and she was surprised at his appearance. In her imagination she had conjured some foul mouthed, swaggering and evil looking figure but Delgardo was a slim, clean-shaven, calmly spoken man of early middle age. Dressed in high black leather boots, beige combat trousers and a crisp white cotton shirt, he looked more like some Latin American ranch owner than an African bandit. After a brief conversation with Auda he led them inside. Zoe was ordered to stand where there was a solid iron hook fixed to one of the timbers that formed the wall. Auda looped the leash over the hook and tied it in a knot. Whilst the two men then settled themselves into rattan chairs and Auda was given iced coffee, Zoe was forced to remain standing, tethered by her collar to the wall. She knew better than to make any complaint and waited in sullen silence, listening to the men's conversation. They were calmly discussing the forthcoming sale of a commodity of some worth. The item in question had already attracted much interest on the open market and a good price at auction was expected. The item in question was herself.

'Will you stay for dinner tonight?' Delgardo asked Auda, offering him a cigar, which the Arab declined.

'I will return to my boat, but thank you for the kind invitation. The auction tomorrow is set for what time?'

'Noon. Some clients are here already and the rest are expected in the morning. The girl looks in good condition; she could make you a decent price. There's been plenty of interest.'

As he spoke Delgardo wandered across to where Zoe stood tethered. She caught the strong smell of his cigar and then the smell of his aftershave as he approached her. Her instinct was to shy away but the leather collar tight around her neck reminded her that escape or even momentary evasion of his hands was futile. She stood trying not to show her fear as he ran a hand over her, appraising her just as if she was a commodity for purchase like some racehorse.

'Pretty hair, though of course the blondes still as a rule fetch the better prices.'

'Naturally,' Auda agreed. 'I myself prefer them.'

Zoe shot him a glance, thinking of Vanessa, probably now lying sunbathing on the deck of his boat, her mane of blonde hair spread across the deck, her slender limbs sun drenched and relaxed, while Zoe was trapped here.

'What nationality are your parents?' Delgardo demanded, lifting her face by her chin so that she was forced to look directly at him.

'My mother is Spanish, my father British.'

'I thought I detected Spanish blood; your skin, your face, your eyes... yes, you're a very beautiful young woman. How long have you been a slave?'

'I am not a slave! I'm employed by the British Secret Service and when they find that I am being held here, then God help you and everyone in this hell hole!'

Zoe expected the man to respond angrily or perhaps to laugh scornfully but he did neither. He merely allowed a faint smile to play across his lips then he stroked his hand down over her shoulder and let his fingers lightly feel the weight of her breast. Zoe felt herself blush madly, she'd never felt so humiliated. He had not only managed to completely ignore her tirade but he continued to treat her as nothing more than something for his inspection. Worse, by now turning his attention blatantly to her breasts, he was reminding her of why she was being turned into a slave. Now, what she said or thought mattered not in the least. Her only worth now was reflected in how she appealed physically. It was her body that these men wanted and the collar around her neck and the rope around her wrists reminded her that what she didn't give willingly to them, they could take by force if it pleased them. She could try to convince herself that she was still an abducted British Government employee but the hard truth was that tomorrow at noon she was to be sold as a sex slave.