Kuwait<br >Chapter One<br >Sam Ellison stepped out of the limousine and felt the heat<br >as though it were a tangible force， wrapping itself tightly<br >about his neck and slowly squeezing the air out of his<br >body. Although his skin was still a golden tan and his<br >thick， sandy hair was bleached blond by the sun， he had<br >grown accustomed to cooler temperatures， having spent<br >the last four weeks kayaking in the white-water rapids of<br >Alaska. With a pair of aviator sunglasses shielding his eyes<br >from the blinding rays of the sun， he looked out across the<br >stretch of pavement to where the private jet waited for him.<br > "Thanks for your help in getting me out of here so<br >quickly， Edgar，" he said to the short， trim man at his side，<br >grateful for the use of the private plane that would spare<br >him the inconvenience of traveling on the commercial air-<br >lines. Less than eight hours ago Sam had returned to Ku-<br >wait on a flight disturbed by crying babies， quarreling<br >