End of Days by Brad Taylor
Long haired, olive skinned, and with a scraggly beard, Mustafa stood out from the other paragliders laying out their kit for the first flight of the morning. He was most definitely not of the Nordic stock who usually took tourists over the landscape of Interlaken, Switzerland. The men around him glanced curiously, but didn’t broach any questions, because Interlaken itself had become a hub of tourism for rich Arabs around the world. He was just a sign of the times as far as they were concerned, like the Halal menus and prayer mats offered at the hotels. The other pilots belonged to individual tour companies, and as such, knew each other well. Mustafa belonged to no company, but he’d taken the place of an individual operator who did.