The sky was still black and the morning birdsong was building. He sat and listened to it for a few minutes while he tried to decide if it would be possible to go back to sleep. Since he had to consciously stop his thoughts from racing, he concluded there would be no more sleeping. He did not remember the birds being so loud so early before. He would have to be sharper than this to carry off his responsibilities with the chess tournament. When he finally dressed and walked into the café it was five and the sky was lightening in the east. Rashid was alone, mopping the floor. No one was outside. It had been quiet on the tarmac, too, the post-mission traffic light. It was a blessing to have had a quiet night. It was the day of the chess tournament. All the slots had been filled within twenty-four hours of the posters going up. Even better, the secretaries of generals Jackson and Lattice had called, asking if their bosses could still enter. Of course they could. And if that weren’t enough, Major Horner had telephoned Rami Issay to tell him that Mark Burnett of Survivor would be arriving the same day.
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