Once the bag was secure in the hold, the driver looked down at Keema, his eyes behind the dark slits of his mask in new appraisal of him. And it was then that a kind of messaging passed between them; in their locked and silent gaze a tightening of the first knot of trust; a contract, signed by a nod of the driver’s head, before Keema closed the flap, and returned to the soldier’s side.
