Johar Adwan chanced a quick glance at his wingman, but Samir Hamshari’s eyes were routed on a spot on the wall above the general’s empty chair. Johar did the same. Thirty-four minutes later, they heard the sound of hard heels in the outer office and the shuffle of chairs as Mana’s aides and secretaries came to attention. The two men could hear Mana’s distinctive voice. “Are they here?” “As you ordered, General,” came the reply. The two lieutenants stiffened even more, if that were possible, as Mana entered. He walked around them and laid his swagger stick and ornate peaked hat on his desk. The general concentrated on pulling off his thin leather gloves, ignoring the lieutenants. He sat down and picked up the letter opener on his desk, finally raising his eyes to focus on the two pilots. “You two were observed yesterday engaged in a dogfight with each other when you should have been on a routine patrol along the “Turkish border.” He rolled the handle of the letter opener between his fingers, studying the blade, finding it more interesting than Johar and Samir.
