Bill Bates looked through the Sikorsky's wide windscreen and saw them coming. The time had arrived, he realized immediately, to make a move. Now or never. The Israeli's attempt to pull out early had just been cut off at the pass, so why not see what would happen if the scenario got shut down entirely?
He reduced the power, listening to the engines wind down, and rose.
"Guess my part of this is over," he announced. "You've got a go system, so have a nice day. I'll be seeing you around."
Peretz’ eyes momentarily flashed confusion, but he was wily enough to recover immediately.
"Your help has been much appreciated," he smiled quickly. "Thank you for checking everything out."
Should I tip off Number One, Bates asked himself. No, that flicker is nobody's fool; he's already way ahead of this little twerp. And the second he sets foot in here and sees that dead German hood, there's going to be a lot of heavy-duty explaining to do.
Now Peretz was moving jauntily down the Sikorsky's folding steps, carrying his Walther with an air that proclaimed nothing amiss.
Time to get out of here, Bates told himself. There's going to be hell to pay.