<em>Ladies and other ladies, please make sure your seat-backs and trays are in their full upright and locked position. Welcome to beautiful war-torn Azerbaijan. Balmy tourist destination of warlords, PMCs, and one more arms dealer.</em>D.L.'s voice came over the Gulfstream's intercom system. "Azerbaijan air, this is Vandal Foxtrot, you took the bribes and I need a landing strip." Some incomprehensible Middle Eastern dialect came back, but she picked up enough. "Roger, bringing her down now." The private jet kissed the tarmac easily. Another easy landing.<br/><br/>She taxied it up and put it at a stop. She stood up and threw her captain's hat in the copilot chair. She smoothed out her blouse and straightened her skirt's hem. She was a woman of less-than-medium height. She had dark skin and curly dark hair speaking to her Cajun heritage. She had a shoulder harness of gator-leather with her pistol in it. Ms. Katz called for general assembly so she walked back to the passenger cabin.<br/><br/>She was a curvy lady, not as fit as some in the crew, but she kept in shape. The only thing out of place about her outfit was the black combat boots she wore over her nylons. She grabbed her sport jacket and flopped into a chair. She gave all present a beaming smile.  Danielle looked out the window at the heat waves rippling off the tarmac. Well, you know, part of the job.