Sugar chuckled and repeated her question.
“Large.” In the end he walked out with body armor, helmet, tactical radio, NVGs, thigh and vest holder for his hand guns, two tactical knives, and a partridge in a pear tree. All new. All top of the line. He wasn’t an ammo sexual by any means, but even he had a semi.
“Rocco’s done with pre-flight. Let’s load up.” Westin passed him and stopped at Sugar. Jordan kept walking, not wanting to intrude on their goodbye.
He grabbed his gear and climbed the stairs of the aircraft. Jesus. This was not the standard jump seat set up. The front half of the plane was tricked out like the interior of private jets he’d only seen in the movies. Plush, dark brown leather captain’s chairs arranged around small tables. It looked like the back of the passenger area was set up for bunks.
Cash approached from the back and reached for his weapons case. “We’ll put this in the cargo area. Take anything out of your ruck you want up here and I’ll take that as well.”
Setting his ruck on one of the chairs, he pulled out his laptop and earphones before handing his bag off. Cash exited through a door at the back of the passenger area and Jordan caught a glimpse of the cargo compartment — and the AH-6 helicopter in the back. “Jesus. Is that a Little Bird?”
Cash looked toward the back of the plane and grinned. “We aren’t walking from Timbuktu.”
