Surrender in the Highlands

The helicopter flight back through the midnight sky was a crucible of silent, electric tension. Outside the panoramic curved windows of the AugustaWestland, the lights of central Scotland faded into the total, velvet blackness of the Grampian Mountains. Far below, Loch Dunraven gleamed beneath the pale light of an autumn crescent moon like a sheet of hammered steel. Inside the quiet cabin, the only sound was the deep, rhythmic thrum…