"Yes, brother leader."

Kathy tried to get up but something held her down. The lighter-skinned gunman reached over and she thought he was going to touch her private parts, but he merely unbuckled the seat belt.

He helped Kathy to her feet and she stumbled into the aisle over the legs of Dr. Geleth.

"I really didn't know him.," she sobbed.

"It wouldn't have made any difference if you did," said the light gunman. "He was not military. He was just valuable for what he was."

"What was he?" asked Kathy.

"Cancer research. We do not want the Israelis to be the first to discover a cure. It would be too good for their propaganda. But we would have been willing to trade back Geleth for some of our members in Israeli jails."

"Quiet!" came the command from the leader.

In the rear lounge, the leader took Kevin from Kathy.

"Search her," he said to his accomplice. There was a stream of the spitting language which Kathy now judged to be Arabic. It came from the lighter gunman. He said it with palm open, as if disputing the sanity of the order. A quick violent sentence from the leader and the other gunman bowed his head.

"Strip," he said, "I'm going to search you."

Sobbing, Kathy took off her plaid jacket and white blouse and un-zippered her skirt. She let it fall to her ankles. She averted her eyes from theirs.

"Strip, he said," barked the leader. "He did not mean leave clothing. Strip is strip."

Head bowed, Kathy reached behind her back and unhitched her bra. She was too terrified now for shame. She jimmied the panties down from her hips and let them fall along her legs over the skirt at her feet.

"Search her whole body," said the leader. "With your hands."

"Yes, Mahmoud," said the lighter gunman.

"Do not use names," said the leader, Mahmoud.

Her eyes shut, Kathy felt the hands brush her shoulder and armpits and backside. The hands were brisk.