Katie O’Brien shivered through the sixteenth day  of her detention  in the police station yard in Khazabad,  capital of El Jabrah, lately host to the World Economic Summit and now once more a corrupt central Asian backwater.

She studied her long legs intently. They were covered by a growth of fine red hair, now that she had had no access to toiletries for more than two weeks. her feet were also showing signs of wear and tear after they had been, in common with the rest of her, bare and exposed to the increasingly inclement weather for so long.  She scratched her armpits, feeling the growth of hair there for the first time in years.  It got cooler, much cooler.  There was not a square inch of her that was not covered in gooseflesh and she wearily got to her feet and started the exercises which were her sole means of keeping out the cold.  It was keeping her in pretty good shape, she was forced to admit.  She had worked out a regimen which kept every muscle exercised, much to the pleasure of the Captain as he relaxed in his comfortable office delighting in the decorative occupant of his yard.  He was becoming quite an enthusiast for  gymnastics! (See Greek derivation of that word)

It started to rain and heavily.

"Shit!.that's all I need.And look at that stupid policewoman!  I don't need hosing down today!  I'll get back at that cow one fine day if it takes me the rest of my life!"

But, Katie WAS hosed down, the force of the jet knocking her off her feet and winding her as it struck her four-square in her trim abdomen.

"Dirty Western whore!  We clean you pretty damn good. HEH! HEH! HEH!. Like some more, filthy bitch !" and the customary ten minutes ablutions were extended to half an hour, until the woman tired of her fun and retreated indoors laughing and leaving poor Katie spluttering on the ground and continuing her soaking as the rain became heavier and heavier.

It did not let up until the afternoon of the next day and Katie had to grab what sleep she could before she was too cold and wakened by the freezing rain.  Then more push ups and knee bends and flailing of her arms slapping them against her back to get some warmth in her body, before exhaustion caused her to sleep again.

After twelve more days of worsening weather, she was getting to forget a time when she had ever known warmth and security, looking out at rain and wind from the safety of her window in the newspaper offices in London so far away -would she ever see it again?

The weather had temporarly improved one day and she was sleeping in the sun when a hand on her shoulder caused her to wake up.  A tall, smartly dressed man was standing over her, holding an overnight bag in one hand.

"Miss O'Brien, how can I ever apologise enough for what you have suffered and our failure to help?  My name is  Travers, the British Consul in this fine city!  I was up country on diplomatic business when my clerk woke me at three in the morning to tell me about you - first any of us knew about it - and I got straight over. Here, young lady, you'd better get into these and SOMEONE UNLOCK THIS CHAIN  NOW!!"

The policewoman came scuttling out of the station and swiftly obeyed this man.  Katie then put on the clothes - HER clothes that Mr Travers produced from the overnight bag.

"Lets get out of here.  You need a meal and lots of rest.  We'll get the Embassy doctor to give you the once over.  You look OK, but you never know after what you've been through."

As they passed into the station, whose interior she had glimpsed so briefly all those weeks ago, she saw the obese Captain in handcuffs, being led down to the cells.

"Fat corrupt old bastard, I hope he rots in prison!"  muttered Travers, as they got into the Embassy limousine and were driven away. "He'd have got away with it for months if it hadn't been for a chance call to the Embassy"

"Why, you mean I was not really being charged with anything"

"No my dear, someone saw it all, from your being trapped on the fire escape to your scuttling down the street to get round to the front.  Thought nothing of it and assumed you'd got back inside and had left the next day."

"Someone bribed that fat bastard to arrest and imprison you  . Might have started off as a practical joke, but it went way over the top and I suppose they couldn't see a way to end it without getting into trouble. There are limits to kidnapping important foreign journalists, even in this country. Any idea who it could have been?"

"I might think of something" said Katie.

That bloody man Charlie Ford. Ye  Gods and little fishes!  was he going to pay for this!

"There was  photographic equipment in that guy's office.  He'd been filming your ordeal and posting it all on the web to someone."

Oh, shit! All this was on record somewhere and just waiting to be released.  She'd be a laughing stock - she'd never live it down!  Her relief and elation at being freed turned to  sick fear and renewed misery at the thought of what further misfortunes and humiliation lay in store.

When she had eaten and slept for over a day, so tired was she, Mr Travers continued to explain how her plight had gone undiscovered for so long. Someone had phoned the hotel to say she had been released by the police without charge the same night she had been taken and was going on a trip to explore the country before returning home. Not to worry, the caller said, just send her money and passport to the Shah Jehan hotel in Faisalstan ("where we found it all this morning") and she would call to collect her clothing later.

"Everyone at the hotel assumed you were OK and they put your stuff into store and forgot about it.  Your paper were told over the phone you had  gone off on a long investigation, and asked to wire you some money, which they did. "

"If one of the police had not had a fit of conscience and phoned us, you might have been there for weeks and with the Winter coming on, that would have been very bad news."

Next day she was on the plane home and full of fear, but dead set on revenge.