Saladin’s famed chivalry in war was not lost on Stratton. Despite his own ignoble reputation, deserved or not, graciousness in battle was a more natural impulse in him than those who thought they knew him would have imagined, but, then again, he had made a conscious effort to appear to have dispensed with it. Fair play was as out of date in warfare nowadays as the siege tower and if anything was seen as a weakness.
The loadmaster entered the cabin from the cockpit and signalled those he passed to buckle their seatbelts. Stratton watched him help Gabriel locate his belt and wondered how seriously Gabriel’s dream of death had affected him. Under normal circumstances Gabriel’s condition would have been enough to see him pulled from the field as an operational risk but since there was no one to replace him, Stratton knew Sumners would keep him on for as long as he could, to his death if need be. Considering the gravity of the situation that was an acceptable price to pay and the CIA would concur in a heartbeat. However, there was a point of exhaustion beyond which Gabriel could become a liability and Stratton wondered if he was not already close to reaching it.
The cabin suddenly shook and jolted as the wheels hit the runway and the engines immediately screamed louder as the pilot threw the propellers into reverse thrust. The craft lurched several times as the brakes were touched and the plane quickly decelerated. After taxiing for a few minutes, it came to a stop on the edge of the airfield far from the arrivals building and prying eyes, and the loadmaster opened the rear side door letting a thick beam of sunlight stream into the cabin.
Sumners climbed out of his seat, leaned over to Gabriel and said something, then walked up the cabin without so much as a glance at Stratton and began a conversation with his boss. Stratton expected to be called to attend a final brief any moment and was still in a quandary as to what to say or do regarding Gabriel’s fear.
Stratton had not come up with an alternative solution to quitting the assignment but he had spent some time on the one major weakness of Gabriel’s vision and a possible way through. Since it was in the future, and since it was not a viewing by the definition he understood, and Gabriel had supported that much, then surely it could be changed.
Stratton unbuckled his seatbelt and got to his feet to look out of the window. It was decision-making time and this was not an easy one.
A nondescript car approached with two men inside and came to a stop just beyond the wingtip.The men remained inside the car watching the aircraft. If they were customs or immigrations, they would most likely have been in uniform and walking over to the aircraft by now. The way they sat silently watching with the patience of those who do it for a living left Stratton with little doubt they were Israeli intelligence.
The aircraft’s engines finally died, plunging the cabin into a relative calm and a welcome relief after the hours of constant drone.
‘Stratton?’ It was Sumners calling him over.
Stratton stepped to the table where Chalmers was still tapping away at his keyboard, Sumners’ boss beside him on a phone.
‘Well,’ Sumners began with one of his thin smiles which characteristically masked something new and unexpected. Stratton was not to be disappointed. ‘You’ll be happy to know you’ll be home before the end of the day and you can take that holiday you’d planned. You might need a new pair of skis though - we seem to have lost yours. You were insured I take it?’ ‘I’m off the op?’ Stratton asked, taken by surprise.
‘I think you’ve done more than enough, don’t you?’ Sumners said.‘You’re probably relieved, I’m sure. Damned fine job, by the way.’
‘The op’s cancelled?’ Stratton asked, confused, and at a loss as to what the new developments might be.
‘Gosh, no. Op’s still very much on. We’ll be taking it over from here.’
‘We?’ Stratton asked, looking around as if he had missed someone on the plane capable of running the operation in the field.
‘Well, me, actually,’ Sumners said, his smile starting to wane as Stratton’s expression clearly telegraphed his disdain.
It was immediately clear to Stratton what was going on. Sumners had been a desk operative since he joined the firm God knows how long ago; he had not been promoted in years and had been passed over for several younger, better-connected players, a trend that had no reason not to continue. If he wanted to move any further up the ladder the only way he was going to do it was to broaden his experience base. Sumners had obviously decided this was a perfect opportunity to get his field wings. Stratton was appalled at the timing and lack of thought this supposedly intelligent and experienced man had put into the move. He wanted to say as much, and on any other occasion he would have voiced his disapproval, but something was holding him back and he knew what it was. Survival. Sumners’ move was the simple and convenient God-given solution to his problem. It was proof Sumners knew nothing about Gabriel’s fear. Stratton would sit back, let him take over the op, and, if Gabriel were correct, Sumners would die in Stratton’s place. Even if it was discovered that Stratton knew about Gabriel’s viewing, he had been ordered off the op and that was that. There would be no comebacks.
‘That’s fine,’ Stratton heard himself say almost immediately.
Sumners’ smile regained some of its vigour as if he had misread Stratton’s initial look and that this response was one of approval. ‘I was going to have you come along as an assistant,’ Sumners said buoyantly. ‘But let’s be honest, you are rather headstrong, and since you’re used to working alone it might not be such a good idea . . . Make sense?’
‘Perfect.’
‘Good. Well, you stay aboard and make yourself comfortable and go home knowing you’re on a recommend for a job well done.’
Sumners’ boss was wearing one of his cold smiles as he put down the phone and stared at Stratton as if examining him. Stratton gave nothing away.
Chalmers got to his feet holding a small canvas bag and Stratton watched him walk down the cabin to chat to Gabriel, then after a minute he came back to the table while Gabriel waited by the door holding his bag.
Stratton felt he should at least say goodbye to him but could not bring himself to be so duplicitous. A part of him believed Gabriel was heading to his death and he would not be able to look him in the eye, shake his hand, congratulate him on a job well done, tell him how much he had enjoyed working with him and wish him well for the future. Gabriel would see through him as if he were a sheet of glass. Stratton wished that just for one moment he could be the cold-hearted bastard everyone thought he was, but he could not turn his back on Gabriel, not like this.