A Hostile State by Adrian Magson (best finance books of all time txt) 📕

I checked my phone for Callahan’s instructions. They didn’t amount to much.

Terminal 1 – send locator and wait.

It sounded very specific but I wasn’t going to argue. If he wanted me to sit and wait in a particular building he must have his reasons.

I made my way to the main hall and looked around. I needed somewhere out of the crush but within sight of the main exits. I skirted the mass of travelling public, patrolling security guards, airport officials and staff, and found a coffee stall with some seating nearby. I sent Callahan a locator code as requested, then sat back and waited, eyes on the surrounding area and trying to chill when all my instincts were telling me to go dark.

Leaving Lebanon had been easier than I’d thought possible. After a brief stop at a field of new refugee tents for Max to unload his boxes, during which he’d said not to move but play dumb if asked, we’d continued on our way across-country with Max following a route which seemed to involve a lot of twists and turns. Eventually the sea had come into view and we cleared the coast and were on our way to Cyprus across a sun-sparkled water of the most amazing blue. Thankfully there was no sign of the Agusta to spoil the ride.

When we landed it was at the British RAF base at Akrotiri, where Max directed us to a jeep waiting nearby and waved us goodbye. The driver got us aboard then set out at a fast clip for a small building on the far side of the field, away from the general structures. It felt a bit like being treated as having something contagious but I didn’t mind that. Even in and around military bases it was normal to be segregated from other forces to avoid being asked awkward questions.

As we got inside the building we were approached by two men. One was a uniformed officer with the rank of captain, the other a sergeant carrying a canvas bag. The officer checked our names then nodded to the sergeant and said, ‘This is one of our armourers. I’ll have to ask you to turn over any weapons and ammunition you might be carrying, then we can get on with processing you through to your next destination.’

The sergeant stepped forward and relieved us of the pistols and spare magazines. If he was surprised that Isobel was toting the Glock he kept his face blank. Maybe they had ladies of a certain age coming through here with guns all the time. He quickly and expertly checked that there were no shells left in the guns before thanking us and walking away. All in a day’s work.

The officer directed us to a small waiting room with a phone and said, ‘I’ll have to ask you to stay in this room until it’s time to go.’ His tone of voice and the presence of two armed guards in the corridor suggested that wandering around the base would be actively discouraged. ‘There’s coffee and tea and toilets, so please help yourselves.’

He disappeared with a vague half-salute and while Isobel got busy talking to London, I sent a locator to Callahan, more in the hopes that he’d respond telling me what I’d be doing next. When Isobel finished the call she put the phone down and came across to me.

‘This is where we part company,’ she said. ‘I have orders to go back to the UK, and you’re booked on a military flight to Frankfurt leaving here in a few hours.’

‘I wish I could say it’s all been fun,’ I said. ‘Interesting, maybe. Are you going to be all right?’

‘Me? Yes. I’ll have to go through a long bitching session about why I got kicked out of the country and then I’ll be off somewhere else.’ She looked a little regretful. ‘I enjoyed this last bit. Made a change from pretending to be an aid coordinator. What will you be doing?’

I shrugged. ‘Same as you. An inquest into what happened, then a few days of down time. After that, I’m not sure.’

‘I forgot, you’re a free agent, aren’t you? I suppose I shouldn’t use the word agent around here.’ She grinned like a naughty schoolgirl. ‘People might get the wrong idea.’

I gave her a hug. Under any other circumstances it would have seemed odd, but after what we’d been through together it seemed a natural thing to do. ‘Thank you. You saved my hide back there. I appreciate it.’

‘Stop it. You’ll have me in tears.’ She didn’t look even close to it. She turned and walked out without a backwards glance. One tough lady. I liked her.

Time passed slowly, the way it always does when you don’t want to sit still. People came and went, mostly without acknowledging me, and the hours stretched out. Eventually the officer who’d greeted us on arrival came and escorted me out to an aircraft waiting on the tarmac.

A line of mixed travellers in a variety of uniforms and short haircuts was waiting patiently to get on board, with none of the eager push-and-shove of civilians. They all looked a little spaced out, with sunburned faces and varying states of body slump, and I could only guess where they’d come from and what they’d left behind. Wherever it was had to be a hot-spot somewhere to the east. I was relieved nobody tried to start a conversation and was asleep before we reached the end of the runway.

My phone buzzed. I was on my third Frankfurt-strength coffee and was beginning to feel as if I’d been plugged into the mains, with that sense of edginess that makes everything around you seem forced and induces a general body itch that won’t go away. I looked at the text. It was from Callahan.

2 gunmen accessed Akrotiri base 4 hrs ago. Both attackers shot dead and two security personnel wounded. Your photo again