“The flight will take twelve hours…”

“Make it seven,” Ranya commanded. His tone left no room for negotiation, even though the pilot knew the request was impossible, regardless of the route or speed.

“We can’t, sir…” the pilot, a man in his mid-forties, responded hesitantly. The two other pilots beside him exchanged nervous glances as Ranya’s intense gaze bore into them.

“What?” Ranya’s voice, though quiet, carried a weight that made the men flinch. “Those guys made it in eight hours. How can you say otherwise?”

“They made it in ten,” Valerie interjected, bowing slightly. “Mr. MacQuoid was taken around 7 a.m., and by the time we located him, it...