Beauty Is A Gift of God --- Aristotle

If beauty were a musical composition being performed by a symphony orchestra, her sweetly flowing melody would bring tears to the eyes. She is the personification of beauty.

Where all others are concerned, she is a glittering diamond in a sea of coals, a velvety red rose in full bloom among an ocean of common dandelions. Her beauty is likened to the guiding luminosity of a remote lighthouse as it stands on the shore of the Atlantic during a violent winter storm. After first taking note of her, like ships lost at sea drawn to the glowing tower, I was drawn to this radiance. Her beauty is like the most brilliant star in the heavens, although it is seen at a great distance, it still outshines the millions of others that surround it. In a forest of trees, she is the California Redwood, towering to unbelievable heights of beauty that no other could possibly attain. Every aspect of this particular woman exudes beauty. Her sparkling eyes, that no doubt have melted millions of longing hearts, as she has done mine, with but a glare. Her full lips, which remain inviting whether they are revealing her resplendent smile or her intense look of sensuality.! Her silky brown skin is without blemish and she possesses the body of an Egyptian goddess. Her nose, her ears, her hands, fingers, feet and toes-- every iota of her nearly six-foot frame is without fault.

She is truly a sight to behold.

Even her name, short yet powerful, when heard brings to mind the expectation of something enchanting.

Tyra.

Each time I hear, see, or speak it, her lovely face forms in my mind. Her perfect contours fill my every thought.

Tyra Banks.

She is everything I have ever dreamed of. Everything any man could ever hope for and oh, so much more. She is the cream of the crop, the top of her class, that silver lining in the clouds, that one in a million (one in a billion) that is like no one else. My feeble words do not do her justice, they only serve to give you an inkling of my thoughts of this divine creation of god. The words do not yet exist in any language known to man to adequately describe the way I feel and think about lovely Tyra.

Beautiful Tyra Banks.

What I guess I mean to say is that I believe I love this wonderful woman.

Yes! That's exactly what I mean.

Even though I know this emotion will never be reciprocated. You see, I have never before in my life met her. I have never spoken to her. I have probably never even been in the same room, city or state with her at the same time. She has never heard of me as I have of her. But of course, I am not a world renowned model and actress like she is.

Tyra is a Cover Girl.

Easy.

Breezy.

Beautiful.

She is what the media calls a Glamazon, (I often wonder if she likes that term), a new breed of female model/actress that is nearly or above six-feet tall.

Every tittle of Tyra is attractive.

Surely, when God brought her into being, He drew from the same reserves He used to create the angels and blessed us mere mortals here on earth with her celestial presence. I guess by now you would have figured out that I am tremendous fan of Tyra Banks. Am I a fanatic? No, I don't think so.

Even though some would say those two words are interchangeable. I fully understand that my desires for this luscious woman will never be met. I will not be attempting the assassination of our President or any other political figure to impress her. I will not write her letters, call her home or make claims to the tabloids that we are secretly married. I am not crazy. A little lovestruck? Yes. Crazy? No. I will just continue to love and cherish beautiful Tyra from afar. Gorgeous Tyra Banks. Besides, I have a life-sized poster of her (from the SI swimsuit edition) hanging on the back of my bedroom door. I admit, this is a bit childish, being that I am thirty-one years of age, but can you blame me? I mean have you ever taken a good long look at this woman? A really good look! Well, I have. I get a good look at her everyday. Not in a lustful sickening way, but with respect and admiration. That's it! I respect and admire her loveliness. I admire you because you are a beautiful person Tyra Banks. And at the conclusion of this workweek, after years of worshipping you at a distance, I will finally get to meet you in person. Well at least see you, that is. Or at least that is what I thought would happen. The city of Jacksonville had been blessed. For at the city's largest shopping mall, making a one day appearance at Burdines to promote Cover Girl products was the one, the only, the stunning--Tyra Banks. Would I be there? Just let me say that when the manager of Burdines came in Saturday morning to unlock the doors, I would be standing there with the widest grin on my face that he/she had ever imagined possible. But again, let me say that is what I thought would happen. The Iraqis threw a huge monkey wrench into my plans.

The last week of June 1998 seemed to linger on forever. As far back as two months ago, I had encircled the date of her appearance on both my office and home calendars and had written the letters TB on them in bright red letters.

The day was Saturday, June 27th.

Although the day was forever carved in my mind, I somehow felt the need to see it in writing. I guess that somehow seeing her initials actually written down made the upcoming event more realistic, more than just a dream. Whatever the case may be, the day slowly approached.

A few of my fellow co-workers, also computer programmers, knew of my fondness of Tyra. Some thought my devotion to Tyra to be rather comical, while others felt it to be on the bizarre side. During that final week before I saw Tyra live, when logging on to my computer I would find that I had received email. Of course, this was not unusual, but added in with my regular messages was a note from Kenneth Collins, informing me of the days remaining until Saturday. They usually read something along the lines of, "Thomas, only four shopping days left until T-Day!", or something to that effect. Each day's message was also accompanied with a glamorous portrait of my favorite model in some extremely sexy lingerie from the Victoria's Secret Catalog. Kenneth failed to understand that my attraction to Tyra was not based on how stupendous she looked in lingerie.

She could have worn a burlap sack and I would have been just as attracted to her. To me, she was a creation of utter brilli! ance. She was a treasure to, and for, all mankind to share.

While viewing Kenneth's message one morning another co-worker, a woman by the name of Sue Middleton, passed behind me. Susan was of the school of thought that my hunger for Tyra Banks was indeed bizarre.

She stopped behind me.

"You know Thomas Bradford, this thing you have about this woman is really sick!" She hissed. "Now you've got her posted all on your computer screen. Do you think she'd find that flattering?"

I tried to explain. "But"

"NO! She wouldn't. She'd find it sick! She'd have you charged with stalking or something! And she be justified too!"

I couldn't get a word in edgewise. Sue stood with her hands on her hips, neck moving back and forth like some giant bird during its' mating ritual.

She spat on.

"And you know what? I'd testify on her behalf. You men are all the same.

Big children! You all need to grow up and get a life."

With that final thought relayed, she cluttered away down the hall to her own cubicle. It was very clear to me now why she didn't date. And it was even more evident that she was extremely jealous of my Tyra.

Dazzling Tyra Banks.

At long last Friday, June 26th arrived. All day at work I was unable to concentrate. The algorithms and flow charts I had been working on, which usually were second nature to me, made no sense anymore. I was completely useless. During the morning's meeting I was totally in a world of my own, thinking of the joy tomorrow would certainly bring.

As soon as the workday ended, I bolted from my office to my awaiting Nissan Altima in the parking garage.

I had things to do before the big day.

First, was a fresh haircut. I would definitely try to look my best for Tyra.

Next, was a trip to the same mall where I would meet her tomorrow. Here I would buy a new shirt and a pair of slacks. Something casual, not too flashy, just sharp enough to look presentable to an icon. I laughed at this thought. Here was a woman used to Gucci and Versace originals. There was probably nothing I could buy to impress her, but still I'd try.

After leaving the mall, I got the car washed. Why I did this, I don't know. It wasn't as if Tyra's limo would break down and she'd need a lift somewhere. But still, I'd waited a long time for this moment and I was going to be prepared for every possibility. Wouldn't you?

Having done everything I'd considered necessary for tomorrow's big event, I drove onto Interstate 10 and headed home.

I arrived at my apartment building, found my usual space, parked the car and killed the engine. I had told myself that I was tired and once I had gotten home I'd eat dinner and go to sleep. I found this not to be the case. I found myself to be restless and had lost my appetite. Therefore, I settled on watching a little television.

Maybe by doing so, sleep would catch up with me. To me, my sofa was just as comfortable as my bed, if not more so. Therefore, if I fell asleep on it, I'd get just as good a night sleep.

I made myself comfortable and turned on the TV with the remote. It was 7:30 and 'The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air' was on. Immediately, I recognized the episode. Carlton and Will were in their own apartment and Carlton had fallen in love with a girl he suggested that Will must meet. The girl turned out to be none other than my dear Tyra. I could not remember her character's name, I only knew that it was she.

Tyra.

Shining Tyra Banks.

This was definitely an omen. Surely a sign that I would satisfy a dream tomorrow.

The last thing I remember before falling asleep was seeing my fantasy in the arms of Will Smith. My rest was unbelievably uninterrupted; I slept like a baby. Tomorrow would be the greatest day of my life.

The fresh smell of brewing Southern Pecan coffee awakened me that morning.

It was finally Saturday, June 27th.

Last night, I had set the sleep timer on the television for two hours. Looking at the dark screen, I knew it had worked properly as had the Brun coffeepot I had also programmed.

Usually, I'm in a foul mood when I arise. But this morning proved to be the exception. I felt invigorated, full of energy and ready to greet the world. Stepping into the kitchen, I poured myself a hot cup of coffee, added cream and sugar and fixed myself a light breakfast.

After breakfast, I went to my bedroom to take a shower. Behind the door, as always, there she stood. Well, my poster of her at least. I couldn't help but smile at what I was seeing. She just had that look of perfection about her. In the picture the water from the falls flowed over her body, fortunate enough to have been in contact with her. Her beauty exuded from the photograph with such ease. It seemed to be saying, "this is flawlessness, this is perfection, this is Tyra."

Magnificent Tyra Banks.

Again, let me emphasize that my feelings toward Ms. Banks were nothing more than harmless infatuation. I would never do anything to invade her privacy or anything of that nature. My mind is sound. It's just that my heart is completely full with her and I can't help the things I say and the things I do when it comes to her.

Crazy, no.

Lovestruck, yes.

I snapped out of my daydream. It was time for a shower --- a cold shower.

Having showered, shaved and dressed, it was finally time to depart for the mall. It was already eight o'clock and Burdines opened at nine. Tyra wasn't due until two o'clock. Therefore I had six hours to kill. But as I said, I planned on being there when the doors opened and Northlake Mall was large enough to keep me busy until then, so hopefully the time would pass quickly.

As I was spraying myself with cologne, in an attempt to make myself more desirable, I heard a knock at the door. Who could it be at this hour? I thought. And then a smirk came to my face. It had to be Kenneth from the office, here to give me well wishes. Hopefully, he wouldn't want to tag along with me. Although he was a good friend, his presence, I felt, would somehow degrade the entire affair. I knew how he saw Tyra, simply as a sex object. He would spend the entire time making lewd remarks about certain parts of her anatomy. I would get offended and thereby not enjoy this monumental moment in my life. No way would he tag along with me on this day.

I quickened my pace toward the door, ready immediately upon opening it to adamantly state that in no way, shape or form was he going with me.

Without looking through the peephole, I placed one hand firmly on the doorknob and unlocked the dead-bolt with the other; I jerked the door open.

That last action proved to be a very big mistake.

Two men stood at the door, each of average height and build. Their hair was dark and straight. Both sets of eyes were just as dark as the hair.

Their skin was also a dark complexion. Not as dark as my own, but close.

From just looking at them, I could not tell if they were Middle Eastern or Hispanic. The man to my right spoke first.

"Good morning sir", he said. He was definitely Middle-Eastern. "Are you Mr. Thomas Bradford?"

"Yes, I"

Before I completed the sentence, they had both quickly and without hesitation entered my home. The man who had not yet spoken, just as quickly closed my door and reengaged the deadbolt lock. I had taken a few steps back at first in shock, then suddenly realizing the importance of the day, I began to close the gap between us.

"Listen!" I said forcefully, pointing a finger in the air. "I don't know what the hell is-."

Again I was not allowed complete my sentence. The unspoken man produced a large handgun, complete with silencer, from underneath his jacket. I had at first thought it was strange that he wore a coat in Florida at this time of year. Instantaneously, I understood why.

The unarmed man spoke again.

"Please Mr. Bradford, as you are now called. Do not provoke us to harm you. Please take a seat."

He motioned towards my couch with his hand. I was still standing frozen in the same position. The gunman nudged me with the barrel and I slowly obeyed his orders.

"Habib", the spokesman said, "close the blinds."

Without hesitation, the man called Habib did as he was told. The other man began pacing back and forth in front of me, his head bowed and hands clasped behind him. Without looking at me he began to speak.

"Mr. Bradford, or should I say Mr. Bailey. We know who you are and what you do, or should I say what you have done in the past.."

Confused at what he was talking about I shouted, "I don't know what the hell you're talking abo --- !"

For the third time this morning, my statement was interrupted. This time, Habib the gunman approached me and slapped me hard across the face. My lip began to bleed.

"Silence American pig!" he finally spoke. "You will not speak unless told to do so!"

"That is enough Habib! Control yourself." The man stopped pacing and Habib obediently stepped back.

"As you see Mr. Bailey, it will do you no good to deny the truth. Do you understand?"

Still defiant I said, "No, I don't ."

"Then let me explain", the man said. "First, my name is Mohammed el Fahd.

I am an agent of the Iraqi government. We know that five years ago you worked for the government of this fascist country. We know that after fifty years of attempting to break the code you were successful for them. We knew that after your success, you were given a new identity and relocated to this area of your imperialistic country. Now that we have found you, you will be taken back to Iraq with us where you will divulge this secret to us or you will die." el Fahd looked me sternly in the eyes and said, "Now do you understand?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Secret code? Working for the government? You've got the wrong guy."

Habib approached me again, his hand raised to strike, but el Fahd stopped him.

"No! We need him unharmed for the time being. If after we return home, he refuses to cooperate, you can do as you wish with him." el Fahd turned to face me again, an evil sneer on his face.

"Habib! Search the apartment!" He disappeared without a word.

"Since you appear to be ignorant of the facts of what is going on. Let me, as you Americans say, fill you in on the details."

"To begin with, your name is not Thomas Bradford. It is Terrence Bailey. You are a computer genius who although thought of as a bit eccentric, five years ago made it possible for your government to decode certain information. Information that will make your military unstoppable."

I looked on in amazement.

"This information is alien. This information is from another world. And you alone were able to decipher it. Would you like me to continue or do you wish to keep up this charade?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Please continue."

"As you wish."

"Fifty years ago, an alien vessel crashed in the section of your country called New Mexico. In a city named Roswell. It is a well known fact by several worldwide intelligence agencies that the craft and three alien bodies were confiscated and taken to a remote military sight that is named Area Fifty-One."

"Much of your country's technological advances came from this craft: stealth technology, integrated circuit chips, laser technology and fiber optics, just to name a few. However, the mystery of the ship's propulsion system remained an enigma. Until now that is."

This incredible speech was then interrupted by a loud crash from the back of the apartment.

el Fahd spoke something in Arabic and a reply quickly came back. He continued on.

"Let's see? Where was I? Oh yes! Until now."

"Five years ago a young African-American computer prodigy was called upon to work on a project called Tau-Beta."

"The American scientist were close to the answers, but not quite there yet. After all, they had been working on the mystery for nearly fifty years. It was agreed upon that a fresh new perspective was needed. You, my friend, were that fresh blood. You alone were able to make the alien technology and equations make sense."

"The results of your work you ask?" he stated sinisterly.

"The United States military now has the capability and know-how to build a jet fighter capable of exceeding Mach 10 while still maintaining unbelievable maneuverability!' My eyes widened at this revelation.

"Yes, exactly!" el Fahd said. "Imagine the possibilities. Jet fighters that are able to fly faster than missiles, able to change directions instantly. Your country would truly rule the world."

"But that will never happen. My country was the first to find you. We will also be the first to share this awesome knowledge. We will finally be respected! And by Allah's holy name, I swear that you will die if you fail to provide that information to us!"

In this short period of time, Habib had ransacked my home. He returned to the living room with a piece of paper folded in his hands.

"Did you find anything Habib?" el Fahd asked.

"I found this large picture of a half-naked woman posted on the back of the bedroom door. American pornography! And this!"

It was my calendar from he kitchen wall next to the refrigerator. el Fahd grabbed the calendar from Habib and glanced over it. He became furious.

"'You still deny the truth?!" he screamed, pointing madly at the poster. "What is the meaning of this!' He held the calendar right up to my face, his index finger on today's date and the large red letters T and B.

"I can explain", I said. But it was useless.

"Silence dog!", he spat. "It is obvious what is going on. The letters T and B are for Tau Beta! Project Tau Beta! You were planning on meeting someone concerning Tau Beta on this very day, but we have interrupted those plans. Praise Allah!"

With a smile on his face as if he had just won the state lottery, el Fahd barked out more orders to his lackey.

"Habib! We must leave here with our prize at once before his contact comes looking for him."

Again I tried to explain.

"It's not what you think."

el Fahd moved within centimeters of my face. I could feel his warm breath on my skin.

"Mr. Bailey. You are coming with us. If you try to resist, you will die. By this time tomorrow, you will have a new home --- Iraq! If you fail to cooperate, Iraq is where you will die."

Before Habib had mentioned my poster, I had amazingly forgotten what was to transpire today. I then knew that there was no way I would be going with these two men anywhere. Somehow, someway, I was going to find a way out. Not only for myself, but also for my country.

And most of all ----- for the love of Tyra Banks.

It was now ten-thirty-seven. After being escorted to an awaiting Winnebego in the apartment parking lot, the two Iraqi kidnappers stopped at a Texaco Service Station to fill up the huge vehicle. They then proceeded in getting lost on Interstate 295. When they finally discovered we were heading in the wrong direction on Jacksonville's by-pass, the decision was made to exit and reenter the freeway head-ing towards Interstate 10 West.

All this time I sat in the rear of the camper alone and unbound. They were pretty sure I would not escape. Fortunately, they had no idea the meaning of the letters TB on my calendar. The day was still young and I still had time to make Tyra's appearance.

Immaculate Tyra Banks. They drove west on I-10 for approximately one hour before el Fahd materialized before me in the back of the RV. I was seated at the dinner table, nervously drumming my fingers on the imitation wood table. El Fahd sat directly in front of me. He smiled.

"Please Mr. Bailey. Do not continue this game. I understand you are frightened, but you have no reason to be. If you are cooperative, Iraq will treat you well. You must also understand that at first we had to be authoritative with you to show the seriousness of our mission."

It was obvious to me that el Fahd was now trying to play the role of Mr. Nice Guy in order to get me to admit something in his favor. I wasn't going to fall for his ruse. He continued to talk.

"Also, please forgive my associate Habib." He then leaned over the table and whispered. "He is not very bright." el Fahd returned to his previous position and patted his palms on the table.

"Let me show you something."

He stood and walked to a drawer by the stove. It slid open easily and he removed a large legal envelope. Returning to the table he sat and slid the envelope towards me. It was stamped in red Arabic letters, TOP SECRET, under them, their English equivalent: TOP SECRET.

"Open it", he said motioning with his hand.

Reluctantly, I did so.

It was an 8" x 10" color photograph. Of what, I could not tell you. It was extremely out of focus. I could tell you that it was a picture of a human being that looked to be standing next to a computer terminal.

Sarcastically I said, "And this is supposed to be ...?"

"Why that is you, Mr. Bailey", el Fahd answered. "That is you at Area Fifty-One."

I couldn't help but laugh.

"This?! ... This is what your country bases its evidence on! No wonder you're in the sorry state that you're in!"

I shouldn't have said that.

Instantly el Fahd's Mr. Nice Guy persona vanished.

"You American pig!! I should kill you where you sit. My fellow countrymen have died at the hands of your infidel government to get this picture to Iraq. If it weren't for your importance, I would have Habib slit your throat for your mockery. He may be uneducated, but believe me, he does know a hundred ways to kill a man!"

el Fahd's face was a dark red, his eyes seemed about to pop out of his head. He turned on his heels and stormed off to the front of the vehicle.

His threats of death did not faze me, the words had bounced off my chest.

There was only one thought on my mind. GET TO THE MALL!! It resounded thunderously in my head.

Well, I thought, sitting here was not going to get me any freer. I must take action. But what could I do? I knew we were heading west towards Lake City. The traffic was light and a bit heavier in the eastbound lanes.

I needed to be going that way. And fast. Again, I thought, what could I do?

First, I needed some type of weapon.

el Fahd and Habib were now both up front and out of sight. Quietly, I stood. I remained in that position a full minute or two before moving. I had no idea of what I was looking for. Instinctively, I headed for the drawer that el Fahd had removed the picture from. Why? I do not know. Beads of perspiration had begun to form on my head. The short distance seemed to take forever to cover. I had the ever- present feeling that at any moment my captors would appear. Luckily, that feeling was wrong.

However, my original instinct proved to be correct. As I opened the drawer, my eyes widened at what I saw.

A knife.

A large butcher's knife.

Did my captors even realize that this thing was here? What kind of kidnappers left deadly weapons at their victim's disposal? Without hesitation, their mistake became my benefit.

I seized the knife.

At first I wanted to run to the front of the RV, screaming like a crazed maniac. Once there, I would do my best Norman Bates imitation.

Then reality sat in. Such actions would not only prove to be foolish, but also fatal.

They had a gun.

Wisely, I decided to return to my seat and sit with the knife under my thigh and wait for opportunity to present itself. Sooner or later, el Fahd would come back again and I would kill him silently and then take Habib by surprise.

I immediately thought of my situation and what I would have to do. In order to see the object of my desires, I would have to kill. I would actually have to kill a fellow human being to see Tyra.

Wholesome Tyra Banks.

Was this morbid? Was I on the verge of fanaticism? I thought long and hard on both questions. I answered with a resounding NO! My life was in danger here. That this would happen on the day that I was to meet my idol was circumstantial.

Would I kill?

Yes.

Too long have I waited for this day . Nothing ! And I repeat, nothing , was going to stop me. These two men would die at my hands this day. May Allah have mercy on their souls.

It was now eleven-forty-five.

At 11:50 we exited the highway. Habib made a left turn on to some lonely two-laned road. Obviously, we had not quite yet reached Lake City. There were no signs of human life anywhere, just trees. After driving about another mile, Habib made a quick right turn off the road. Now I was completely lost. The road became very bumpy and I decided I must take action soon.

As if he heard my thoughts, el Fahd appeared before me.I instinctively placed my hand next to the leg I had the weapon hidden under.

He kept his distance.

Should I lunge at him? I wondered.

No.

That would cause too much noise. He'd have to come a little closer. As if he knew what I was thinking, he sat in front of me. He even leaned towards me. My eyes stared evilly at his dark throat. This would be too easy. Before he could utter a word, his life would be over. Then I would sneak up on Habib and do the same, taking control of the Winnebago as he died at my hands. It would be over quickly. I would then dump the bodies, turn this thing around and drive like a bat out of hell to Northlake Mall.

To Tyra.

Comely Tyra Banks.

I would explain to the authorities later.

I firmly placed my hand on the knife's handle. It was now or never. el Fahd's voice extended his life a few seconds later.

"We will be at the rendezvous point within minutes. Prepare to be moved to another vehicle. Do not. I repeat, do not attempt any American Rambo heroics. If you do you will be instantly killed and we will find the answers to Project Tau Beta elsewhere."

Viciously, I thought to myself, you won't live that long asshole! At precisely the very moment I was about to end this man's life, something utterly amazing happened. Something so truly bizarre that I am still, to this day, at a lost of words to describe it.

el Fahd had mentioned earlier at the denseness of his partner, Habib. But never in a million years had I thought that someone would be sooooo stupid.

Out of nowhere, Habib materialized in the rear of the RV with us. And this is exactly what he said.

"I grow tired of driving Mohammed. I have set the American vehicle to cruise control until we reach our destination."

el Fahd nodded in agreement, until the realization of what his accomplice had said sunk in. I, however, instantly understood what this meant.

We were driving down a narrow dirt road with no one controlling the steering wheel . Habib thought that cruise control meant that the car could maneuver on its' own.

el Fahd's eyes widened and he slowly stood , realizing what Habib had done.

"You idiot!! You are going to kill us all!"

Habib still did not get it. The expression on his face was one of pure astonishment. He looked as if he wanted to blurt out, "but I said I had the vehicle on cruise control." But before the words formed in his mouth, there was a jarring crash.

I grabbed the table with all my might.

Habib was thrown toward the refrigerator. el Fahd was slung against the side of the wall like a rag doll. Amazingly, I remained seated.

There was a deathly silence inside. I stood and immediately noticed my captors sprawled out on the floor. For a brief moment, I considered carrying out my initial plan of slicing both their throats like cheap cold cuts. But then I thought of Tyra. Someway, she would eventually hear of this episode. She would learn that a fan of hers' actually killed two people just to get a glimpse at her. What would she think of me then? I would become just like all the other wackos she's probably scared to death of. And I just could not let that happen. Remember, I was only lovestruck, not crazy.

I moved quickly. They were both out cold. I instantly found Habib's gun and made it my own. I wasn't going to be like some dumb movie character and leave the gun on the floor only to get shot as I stepped out the doorway. I then rushed outside. There, woods surrounded me on all sides.

I didn't know what to do.

I began to survey the RV's damage. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. The engine section was undamaged. This was good. We had side swiped a huge pine, leaving a large indentation behind the passenger's seat. With any luck, the Winnebago would start up again.

It did.

In a manner of seconds, I had unceremoniously dumped el Fahd and Habib in the Florida woods, hoping never to encounter them again.I was able to find the two-lane road and I-10.

East.

Go east young man.

Like a bat out of hell.

I was going to make it. I was going to see her after all. I looked at my watch. It was 12:52. I had to be back in Jacksonville at the mall by two. That was impossible, I thought. Then I thought, engagements like this never start on time. Famous people are always fashionably late. Tyra would not be the exception. Besides, the advertisements had said she'd be there until four o'clock. I had plenty of time. I'd make it.

Traffic moved smoothly. For a while that is.

At about the halfway point, traffic came to a complete standstill. All I could see were cars and trucks lining the highway. Not moving. I could not believe what was happening to me. Of all days why did this have to happen today?

I watched helplessly as the minutes zoomed by. Thirty minutes.

An hour.

An hour and ten minutes before the cars and trucks started to move at a snail's pace.

Two-fifteen.

There had been a terrible accident on the interstate. A tractor-trailer had jacked knifed, blocking all three lanes of east bound traffic. It had taken that long to remove the wreckage. From where I had stopped, it was two miles before I was to the point of the accident. Those two miles, the longest two miles I had ever driven, took forty-five minutes to complete.

Three o'clock.

Tyra was now signing autographs.

Superb Tyra Banks.

I was still fifty-two miles away. Fifty-two miles from destiny. I drove like I never drove before. I darted in and out of traffic as if I was in a sports car and not a juggernaut. I was fortunate that I wasn't stopped.

I reached I-295 at three-forty. The mall was twenty-five minutes away. With any luck, Tyra would stay and sign a few extra autographs.

At exactly four o'clock I pulled into the parking lot of Northlake Mall. Due to the size of the coach I drove, I had to park in the most isolated section of the lot.

Like a bolt of lightning, I sprang from the RV. The mall seemed to be as far away as Pluto is.

I began to run.

With each step the building seemed to recede. Sweating and out of breath, I finally reached the Burdine's entrance. I snatched the doors open fiercely. The cool air felt so refreshing on my damp skin. I found new energy.

Tyra's appearance was to take place upstairs in the cosmetics department. I ran to the escalator, unmindful of the security cameras, whose eyes I had no doubt caught, and bounded the moving stairs two at a time. I halted at the top, looking left and then right. Then I saw the signs leading to the cosmetics department and Tyra Banks.

When I reached the counter I saw where an exhibit of Cover Girl products had been assembled. But no Tyra Banks. In fact, I saw no one. No one, that is, besides the young woman behind the counter. She was busy putting up the display.

Ex ...excuse me", I said breathlessly.

The woman turned and looked at me. I must have frightened her at first by the way I looked.

Crazed.

But she smiled and slowly approached. Before I could even ask, I could see she knew the reason for my presence here today. She knew I sought Tyra Banks.

"Has she left?" I asked, already knowing the answer. For some reason though, I had to hear her say the word. Hear a dream go down the drain.

"I'm so sorry sir", she said sadly. "Ms. Banks left about fifteen minutes ago."

The words struck like a ton of bricks. My knees grew weak.

My head spun.

Just like that it was over. The opportunity of my lifetime was gone. I wanted to drive back to the woods and finish off el Fahd and Habib. If I hadn't been in public, I would have cried like a baby. Cried like a baby.

All of a sudden a rage surged within me! It was those damned Iraqis fault! I should have killed them when I had the chance! They had ruined everything. I pounded my fist on the counter and uttered loudly, "dammit!"

"I'm so sorry sir", the girl repeated. Her apology sounded sincere.

Realizing where I was, I regained my composure.

"No. I'm the one who's sorry. It's just that I'm such a big fan of hers and I had really gotten hyped up on seeing her", I explained.

The saleswoman nodded.

"I understand. She is a beautiful woman."

She put her index finger to the side of her mouth, pondering what to do for me.

"Mmm", she said. "Maybe this will help." She knelt below the counter, disappearing momentarily. I could hear her hands rumbling through something. What ever it was, they made a clacking noise as they struck one another.

Like a jack-in-the-box she sprung up holding a tube of Cover Girl Lipstick.

"Here. You can have it. Ms. Banks used it in a demonstration."

I held out my hand and took the tube. Her lips had actually touched this. I held the container as if it were nitroglycerin, careful not to make any sudden moves. I'm sure the saleswoman thought me to be a complete lunatic. I looked up at her to give her my heartfelt thanks. She just smiled. Her brown eyes were focusing on something or someone other than me. Before I could give her my thanks, she spoke.

"Why hello again Ms. Banks", she said plainly.

Did I hear her correctly? I asked myself. And then a voice from behind me spoke. A voice that I would recognize if I had heard it from under fathoms of water. A resplendent, sensual voice. The voice of the most beautiful woman in the universe.

Tyra.

Refined Tyra Banks.

In slow motion, I began to turn. The decor of the store was a blur. And then I faced her. She came breathtakingly in to focus.

We almost stood eye to eye. I was slightly taller than she was. To this day, I could not tell you what she wore. Her lovely face held me captivated. Her hair hung loosely over her shoulders, her sparkling eyes dazzled. Her perfect lips parted revealing brilliantly white teeth.

She spoke to me.

"Excuse me sir."

I could not talk. But I found myself able to step to one side. Tyra stepped up to the counter and explained to the saleswoman that she had forgetfully left her handbag. The saleswoman acknowledged that she had put away a woman's purse and had not yet even looked in it to see who the owner might be. Once again she disappeared under the counter and quickly came up with Tyra's belongings. Once again, I heard the voice of an angel speak.

"That's it", was all she said.

She took the purse in her delicate hands and extended the saleswoman her gratitude. She then turned and gracefully strode away with two large men whom I hadn't even noticed at first. I watched as she reached the escalator where she paused, turned and looked directly at me.

She blew me a kiss and then waved good-bye.

She knew I was there to see her. Maybe she had noticed the way I held onto the lipstick. Maybe it was just instinct. Whatever the case may be, she knew.

An instant later, she was gone.

My life was now content. I hadn't bothered her for an autograph. I didn't jump and scream. I didn't claw at her. I didn't need to. To behold such magnificence live and in living color was all I ever needed.

As I said earlier, I wasn't a lunatic.

Lovestruck, yes.

Lunatic, no.

I looked at the saleswoman and just grinned from ear to ear.

"Thanks", is all I said and walked away.

There was one other small piece of business I needed to take care of though. To me, it paled in comparison. I had just gotten a glance at heaven. At Tyra.

Beautiful Tyra Banks.

The day had been long and boring for Elizabeth Alford. But she had seen plenty like it before. Even though she had been the Executive Assistant for CIA Director William Heard for three years now, the days weren't always filled with glamour and excitement as one might expect.

She had put in extra long hours today. It was 8:30 p.m. and she was still in the office. Director Heard was still in his office conducting a very important meeting. Today, she could not leave the office until he did, she had been told. But that was okay, she could use the overtime, she thought. But by god, was she bored.

Without warning, the door to the office burst open and a disheveled man rushed in.

She was startled.

At first she thought a group of terrorists or something were attacking the office. But this man was alone and, thankfully, unarmed. How'd he get in? She wondered.

"I need to see Director Heard. NOW!!" he demanded.

"Director Heard is still in a meeting sir", she said as she came to her feet.

Without delay, the man stormed into the office. Elizabeth Alford followed closely. When he burst through the doors, she spoke first.

"I'm so sorry sir, he just stormed in."

The Director of the CIA William Heard held up his hand, attempting to relax his excited secretary.

"That's alright Liz", he assured, "we've been expecting him."

"Yessir", she responded and backed out the door.

There were only two men in the large room. The other remained silent.

There was no need for introductions here. All three men knew each other quite well.

"Well, we meet again. You informed me on the phone that you had urgent news for me. So urgent it had to be delivered in person. Now what could that news be?"

"They've discovered who I am. The Iraqis that is", the man said excitedly.

"Are you sure?" the Director asked shocked.

"How can this be?" the other man, who was Major General Nick Beckman, overseer of Area Fifty-One, finally said.

"They tried to kidnap me this afternoon. I'm quite sure. I need a new cover."

"Calm yourself Mr. Bai--, I mean Mr. Bradford. Everything will be taken care of".