Jack wasn’t surprised that Paul had a valid passport. It was a requirement for current employment at Hendley Associates—The Campus, too. “You never know where your work will take you on short notice” was the company policy. Fortunately, Singapore didn’t require a visa from an American traveler staying less than thirty days.

They made their way to the Virgin Atlantic check-in counter, where their boarding passes awaited them, and checked their baggage.

Paul’s carry-on was the nylon duffel bag that pushed the size and weight limit, along with the laptop slung over one of his shoulders. He was in the same gray suit he had been wearing earlier in the day.

Jack’s carry-on was a hand-tooled leather messenger bag for his Kindle, iPhone, and iPad. At home he showered again and changed into business-casual attire. He preferred comfortable athletic wear on long flights like this, but he was representing Hendley Associates and decided to dress it up a little bit. It was going to be a long seven-hour flight that started in Washington and landed in London tomorrow morning, where they would switch airplanes and catch an even longer thirteen-hour flight to Singapore.

In flight hours it was less than a day, but because of the time changes they landed two calendar days after they departed Dulles International. In Jack’s mind that meant fitful hours of uncomfortable boredom interrupted by bouts of intermittent sleep and the inevitable onset of jet lag, coming and/or going.

Yeah. Fun.

At least the security-check lines were short this time of night and they passed through quickly, making their way to Terminal A to catch their flight. The flight was full but mercifully not oversold, and they boarded shortly after the first-class passengers. Hendley said he couldn’t spare the company’s luxurious Gulfstream G550 for the flight over and certainly couldn’t leave it parked on a tarmac for ten days waiting for the return flight. That meant flying commercial, and Rhodes’s executive assistant wasn’t able to secure upper or first class on this last-minute booking.

Jack couldn’t help noticing Paul’s pronounced limp as he made his way down the aisle through the first-class cabin, then the upper-class section, and finally toward their premium-economy-class seats. He offered to carry Paul’s heavy duffel, but Paul politely declined. “Window or aisle?” he asked when they arrived at their row.

“Doesn’t matter. Whatever’s best for you,” Jack said.

“Same for me.”

“It might be better for your leg if you can stretch it out. The aisle might be the way to go,” Jack offered.

“If you really don’t mind.”