quietly. Their rifles rested in their arms, the muzzles pointed casually toward their prisoners. It had been a long time since he had tried to break away.
He said, "Tell them I'm stiff. That I'm just going to stretch."
She frowned, puzzled. "Why?"
"I've got an idea."
She seemed to study him again. At last she nodded. "Okay." She spoke humbly in Arabic to the two heavily armed men.
One responded in a bark, and she uttered more words.
At last she told Jon, "He says it's all right, but only you can stand. Not me." She gave a grim smile.
"Figures."
He got up to his feet and arched his back as if his limbs had gone to sleep. He could feel the policemen's intense gazes from the tailgate area. When they turned away, bored again and half asleep, he put his right eye to a long tear in the slope of the canvas roof. He looked out and up.
Suddenly the harsh voice of one of the policemen snarled.
Randi translated. "Sit, Jon. You've just been busted."
Smith fell back to the bench, but he had seen what he wanted: "The north star. We are going west."
"The Justice Detention Center is south."
"So I was told. Besides, that had to be miles back. They're not taking us to jail, and they're not taking us to the center. You have any weapons they didn't find?"
Her brows raised. "A small knife inside my thigh."
He looked down at her sedate gray skirt and nodded. She would be able to reach it quickly.
With an abrupt lurch, the Russian truck slowed and threw them forward. Another lurch sent them against the cab in front. It slammed Randi into Jon. She quickly pushed away. The vehicle stopped. Voices talked roughly. Suddenly there were noises of men climbing from the cab and walking forward, talking.
In the truck's rear, the two policemen went into a crouch, AK-47s at the ready.
She cocked her head, listening to the Arabic words. "I think the officer and one of his men got out of the cab."
Jon shook his shoulders to relieve the strain. "Is it a checkpoint?"
"Yes."
Silence. Then laughter. More laughter, a slapping of backs, some boot clicking, and the two policemen climbed back into the front of the truck. The engine ground gears and bumped forward, gathering speed.
Randi's voice was low and thoughtful, "From what I could hear, the Republican Guard stopped them, and they had no trouble convincing them they're legitimate police. The Guards even seemed to know the officer by name."
"Then they are the police?"
"I'd say so, and that means they're probably moonlighting for your American friends. If we're both right, then whoever's behind all this has not only power but big money. The only good thing about our situation is we're not in the detention center. Still, there are six of them, all highly armed."
The corners of Jon's mouth turned up in a half smile, but his blue eyes were cold. "They haven't got a chance."
She frowned. "What do you have in mind?"
He whispered, "The pair who're guarding us were close to dozing off before the Republican Guard stopped the truck. With luck, the motion and monotony will lull them again and put them into a kind of trance. Let's pretend to nap. It could make them sleepy, too."
"We can't wait long. They haven't brought us out here to enjoy the desert air."
They sat in silence, eyes closed, heads drooping as they simulated sleep. They shifted positions from time to time the way sleeping people did. As his head nodded and he let out an occasional low snore, Jon watched the guards with his peripheral vision.
Miles passed. The guards' desultory conversation quieted and slowed as the truck rocked on into the night. Smith and Randi grew drowsy themselves. Then they heard a light snore that was not one of Jon's.
"Randi." His voice was husky.
One of the policemen had slumped back against the canvas side. The other's head had fallen forward, and he was nodding, fighting sleep.
Soon they would have the chance for which they had hoped--- prayed, to be precise.
Jon pressed his index finger to his lips then pointed for Randi to crawl along the left side of the truck bed while he would crawl along the right. Randi nodded. They turned over onto their stomachs and rose to their knees. As the truck continued to rock, they slipped forward in the dim light.
Abruptly the truck made a sharp turn. Everyone was thrown hard to the right as it left the road for what felt like a rutted