Chapter One: Crosswind
The Antonov circled lazily overhead like a bird, its hulking form wheeling back and forth in the crosswind. Indeed, against the grey bulkhead of sky, the white and blue of its livery seemed like the plumage of some exotic parrot. Mehmed Al-Saud watched the aircraft from control tower intently, his powerful gaze fixed, unblinking. As he stared, it made another pass overhead, lower than ever. Its huge frame was shuddering against the wind.
"Why aren't they landing?"
"The crosswind is too high." The Air Traffic Controller didn't look up from his work as he addressed Mehmed, consumed by the intricacies of landing the enormous aircraft on such a small runway.
"How long?"
"Within the next ten minutes, hopefully. We're just waiting for a gap in the wind."
Losing the Antonov once more in the cloud, Mehmed moved on, eyes hungrily prowling across the rain-speckled glass for any other point of interest to observe. Eventually, they settled on the bright worm of orange that flickered and danced across the runway. The windsock confirmed what the Controller has said, as it was torn unrelentingly by the fearsome gusts that rolled in across the mountainside.
"I want them on the ground now. We aren't waiting any longer."
Mehmed's decision was a calculated one. He was no fool; it was clear to him that the wind made any attempt at landing an unforgiving task. However, he held the pilots in utmost regards. His advisor, Mr Ross, had picked the men by hand, and Ross was very rarely wrong about people.
In actuality, although Mehmed would not admit it, his anxiousness to get the plane on the ground stemmed not from confidence in its pilots, but a terrible reverence for its cargo. He had seen first-hand what the thing in the cargo hold was capable of, and it had put the fear of God into him.
The Air Traffic Controlled didn't argue. He gave a curt, controlled nod, and hailed the Antonov over the howling airwaves.
Rain slicked the runway, turning it from concrete to black ice. As the wheels of the Antonov slammed down, it kicked up huge clouds of white spray. The screech of metal on metal called out over the wind, the sound of the aircraft's brakes vainly trying to rein the mass of steel into control. The wind caught the craft, as it swerved and fishtailed towards the end of the runway. Moments before the concrete ran out, the aircraft finally screamed to a shuddering halt. Despite himself, Mehmed gave a deep relieved breath from his view on high in the aircraft control tower.
"Who's the idiot who wanted us to come down in that? We had a crosswind of sixty!" Mehmed brushed of the pilot, a Scot with a foul mouth and an even worse temper, and stared up at the darkened maw of the aircraft's cargo hold. Somewhere within, the rustle of movement and the flickering of shadows betrayed the presence of the cargo.
"Shush." He silenced the pilot, cocking his head as he did, intent on catching every slightest noise that the creature within made. In the darkness, a pair of jade eyes flashed, and just for a moment, for the slightest fraction of a second, Mehmed could feel the raw fury of the beast. "Lights. Lights!"
Someone, somewhere heard the order, because no sooner had Mehmed barked it out, it was obeyed. Enormous floodlights set into the roof of the cargo hold burst on, piercing white illuminating the heavy bars of the cage, and beyond that, the animal, in all its primal glory. Infuriated by the stress of the plane journey, and this painful new stimuli, the animal sprung the bars of the cage with all its might. The power of tooth and claw, however, was nothing compared to the composite alloy bars of the cage, no matter how much the animal threw itself at them.
"It's beautiful." Mehmed whispered, to the quickly gathering crowd of hangar technicians. As he did so, the animal threw back its head, and in a rage-fuelled display of ancient power, it roared.