Desert Air

Tommaso

Someone jiggled my shoulder, and I looked up to find the flight attendant.

“Sir?” she said. “You asked me to wake you ten minutes before we began our descent. The rest of the plane will be woken then.”

I thanked her and disentangled myself from a sleeping Paige. Had we talked about something? I vaguely remembered her frowning. But it could’ve just been a dream, and I needed to pull myself together before we landed. Mostafa would meet us on the airstrip, and we had to move quickly in case we’d popped up on any radar. These men needed a boss.

Ten minutes later, I’d splashed some water on my face, changed my rumpled shirt, and overall looked as much like someone you could rely on as a man could be expected to after a thirteen-hour flight. The men around me woke slowly, and Paige talked me through the descent like always. I had to shut my eyes. We hit a patch of turbulence on the way down, and the plane’s wheels skidded on the bumpy tarmac. But, finally, we landed, and I was first