Muscat Oman
Lat = 23 degrees, 36.7 minutes North
Long = 58 degrees, 35.4 minutes East
Max’s plane touched down in Muscat airport, fifteen minutes later than scheduled, he collected his holdall and waited in the terminal concourse.
A man in his thirty’s, with collar length swept back light brown hair approached him.
“You must be Max; my names Paul Wing, uncle Strayker asked me to meet you.”
“Hi Paul, has my transport arrived,” replied Max.
“Yep, arrived twenty minutes ago, follow me I have some transport outside to take us over to it.”
Max followed Paul to a 4x4 threw his holdall on the back seat, climbed into the front passenger seat.
Paul Wing drove the half-mile journey across the airfield, as they approached an isolated building Max observed the Hercules aircraft nearby.
As they pulled up Paul said, “Whatever equipment you need will be available onboard the plane.”
“What I need first Paul is a secure phone to call Strayker.”
Paul Wing led Max into his office, showed him to a phone, “I’ll leave you in peace, how do you take your coffee Max.”
“Black no sugar,” replied Max.
Max made his call to Strayker’s office, and brought him up to speed.
“Sounds like you have a good lead there Max!”
“Certainly worth a trip into the badlands; by the way how did the training excises go sir?”
Strayker spent the next five minutes giving Max an account of the attack on himself and his driver.
Max was alarmed at this escalation of violence, “Sir; it may be just a coincidence, but these two attacks appear to coincide with the setting up of the new unit.”
“I have had the same thoughts myself Max; I’m seeing the provost marshal later today and will run it by him.”
“What additional security precautions have you made,” replied Max.
“Well your advice to see Johnson paid off; I have Eagle Five Colonel Bishop and one unit supplying me with twenty-four hour covert protection.”
“Then you’re in good hands sir, I’ll contact you when I have what we need.”
“Be careful Max, it’s a hornet’s nest over in Jalalabad at the moment.”
“One other thing,” Max replied. “Our local agent Sami Ramadini, can you get a message to him, and inform him I will be dropping in.”
“Consider it done Max.” Both men replaced their respective phones.
Max walked out to where Paul Wing was standing.
“Here’s your coffee Max.”
“That’s most welcome Paul, what time’s the departure?”
Paul Wing walked over to desk and picked up a clip board, “The control tower have given you a window in twenty five minutes time, the flight crews have been informed of your arrival and they are completing the pre-flight checks.”
“Many thanks Paul, I’ll go over and give them the destination.” Max finished his coffee.
“Good luck Max.”
Max boarded the Hercules through the large open back cargo door; a flight sergeant (F/S) was busy checking the load area.
“Hi there, I’m your passenger, may I speak to the pilot.”
“He is expecting you up front, your equipment is stowed in the container over there,” replied the F/S.
Max crouched down as he entered the cockpit area. “My name is Max; I believe you are waiting for me!”
“Good afternoon Max, my name is Squadron leader Robert Turnock and this is my co-pilot Flight lieutenant Philip Gillam.”
Max leaned over and shook hands with both men; he then handed over a map of Afghanistan to Sqd Ldr Turnock.
“Here is our destination, over Jalalabad; I will be parachuting out, at these coordinates.”
“Okay we take off in ten minutes, now I have our destination, I’ll contact the refueling aircraft to arrange a mid air rendezvous,” “Right,” replied Max, “I’ll go and check my equipment.”