Ayham says something in his native tongue while gesturing to me, then I hear my name; Jessica. The men nod and they look me over. I feel as if I am being examined, like an animal at a market, rather than an independent woman being introduced. Ayham and the men have another discussion, and I hear Tony's name now. The men laugh and nod vigorously. Mahmoud's name is mentioned several more times, along with laughter.

Tony is now getting nervous. I can tell because the two of us are practically clinging to each other. To my surprise, a tall muscular man approaches the two of us and speaks to us in English.

He has a slight British accent but appears to be Pakistani. "Excuse miss" he says with a dip of his head, "If you and 'Tony' follow me please, we will get you out of the hot sun."

Tony and I are relieved and laugh at our misgivings. We follow the nice man. Several of the men walk along with us and smile and nod. The man we are following pulls the flap of canvas on the back of the truck to the side and gestures for us to climb aboard. We both grab handles and step aboard. Just as we swing our legs inside the truck, men waiting inside pull us in as the men who were walking with us jump behind us and tie our hands behind our backs.

Their actions shock me and I cry out, "What do you think you're doing! We're American journalists! We have rights! You can't treat us this way!"

As I run out of steam, the nice man (or so I thought he was) smiles cruelly, "We're quite aware of who and what you are. Ayham brought you to us and he will be handsomely rewarded for his actions. You are both going to be slaves."

"You" he says, gesturing at Tony, "might be made into a eunich if one of the more eccentric guests of the brothel do not care for your 'charms'."

Seeing the shock on our faces, he laughs and the tarp swings shut, leaving us in darkness.