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The Arab stood over her, intently staring at the face of the sleeping figure, thoughts of jihad replaced now by thoughts of earthly pleasure. He watched her face for a long time, the earlier anger on her face softened by sleep and the soft light of the lantern on the table. She was beautiful, he thought, far more so that any woman he had ever been with. She was strong as well as beautiful. And proud. Far too strong and too proud for a woman. She was everything he found both attractive and repellant in a woman. He would change that, he vowed. This would be his new jihad. He would make her into the perfect woman, submissive and beautiful. One who lived to serve the man God had placed over her. There were places he knew of , places in Yemen not too far from his homeland, where the old ways were still alive. There slavery was still practiced, as the Prophet, blessed be his name, had said it should be. There, in Yemen, the Law was still pure, unlike the law in his homeland where the Westerners and their Saudi puppets had corrupted it. If he could get her to Yemen, he could enjoy his slave in safety. To keep as a slave a Western woman - a woman who was also an officer of the infidel army as well as captured in battle- would be a deed worthy of his ancestors. And a strong blow for the true faith. And a deed which would win him much praise from those few righteous men with whom he could safely share his achievement. Men like Osama bin Laden, who, the Arab was convinced, was now hiding there in Yemen. Men with whom he could share his stories of jihad. And perhaps even his slave. Yes, to Yemen. There, God willing, he would have the time he needed to train this Cathy to accept her proper place. The thought made him smile. On a personal level, it would be a fitting revenge for the humiliations he had suffered from the whims of an American woman when he had been young and foolish. When he had been in love with the power and vitality of the Americans . Before he had found that there was no place for him there. But, like all women, he knew that she would bring dissension in her wake. He had seen through Kehalis’ pitiful attempt at deception. Kehalis wanted the blonde woman for himself, as though an unclean pig like him had any idea of what to do with such a treasure. For him to have Cathy would be a waste of God‘s largess. Kehalis merely wished to rut with her; he had no idea of how to truly possess her. To get her, Kehalis will no doubt try to stir up the other men, men of his treacherous blood, to betray him despite the money they would lose by killing him. It was in the nature God had given those fools to see only the prize to be taken today, never the larger prize. They would forget entirely about the money when Kehalis aroused their lust for the infidel woman. But Kehalis would not be able to keep Cathy for himself. Once aroused, the men would all want her and quarrel among themselves over her until all but one of them were killed fighting over her. And then that lone survivor would probably be deceived and killed by the blonde. No, he could not allow that to happen. God willing, he would prevail, using his guile to defeat their numbers.