Incirlik Airbase
“Where do you think you are going?“ Straker pivoted on his heels, barely able to keep himself from falling into a defensive crouch. The voice was a lively, southern London banter, young and markedly devoid of respect. Respect he considered his due, given his stripes and pilot’s coverall. The speaker lounged lazily against the hangar’s corrugated iron, arms folded, eyes hidden behind sunglasses and wearing a British version of his…