Paul slid the contract across the mahogany table.

“This is a substantial contract, Mr. Rankin,” Sultan Qaboos mused.

“I made sure of it,” smirked Paul, looking over the city of Salalah from the newly-constructed office building. They must have been nearly forty floors up. He hadn’t considered that.

Sultan Qaboos read in silence, as his three body guards lost interest in the proceedings. When he was satisfied, he flipped back to the first page and signed his name. Paul went to his side and picked up the contract. His eyes scanned it, ensuring it was properly signed and initialed.

“My Arabic isn’t great, Sultan.” Suddenly, he began undressing, revealing a tactical military outfit. Paul rolled up the contract and stuffed it into a pocked on the chest. “How do I say ‘double cross’, again?”

Three quick bursts from a hidden sniper rifle took out the three body guards.

“Private Gorton, I didn’t realize how high up we’d be.”

Gorton placed a charge on a near window, stepped back and blew it.

“Float on, Sarge.”