The private jet touched down at Doha's Hamad International Airport at 1:05 AM local time. It was well past midnight, but the warm desert air greeted Zachary like a soft blanket as the aircraft's hatch opened.
He squinted slightly, adjusting to the sudden shift in climate. Just yesterday he was in the biting cold of Manchester, grey skies looming and sleet in the forecast. Here, the night air was dry and still, hovering around 19 degrees Celsius. It was mild by Qatari winter standards, but a far cry from the frigid gloom he'd left behind.
The hum of the engines soon faded as the cabin door lowered into a staircase. Zachary was carefully wheeled to the exit by two medical personnel who had accompanied him on the flight. A brace supported his damaged ankle, and though the pain was dulled by medication, a dull ache still pulsed beneath the surface.
