CHAPTER FOUR
A guard stepped out of the shack outside the small private airstrip on the south side of Fayetteville, North Carolina. Dressed in black tactical gear with an M-4 slung tight across his chest, he was no rent-a-cop.
Jordan pulled to a stop and rolled down his window. “Jordan Grant.”
“ID, please.”
He pulled out his wallet and handed over his ID. The guard looked at it, peered at him, then glanced in the back of the pickup’s cab.
“Follow the perimeter road around to the right. Park in front of the third hangar and leave the keys on the dash. Your flight is waiting for you.”
Where the hell am I?He took his ID card “Roger. Thanks.” He waited for the chain-link gate to slide clear before pulling forward. Parking in front of the hangar, he drummed his thumb on the steering wheel, and stared at the civilian helicopter through the rearview mirror. What kind of pull did these guys have? Private, guarded airfield outside Fayetteville he didn’t even know existed. Multi-million dollar helicopter ready to go.
General France had nothing but good things to say about Jared Westin and Titan Group. The General had known Westin when he was fresh out of Ranger training and had kept tabs on him since. He was the only person the General had called when he decided to stop relying on the officials to handle the situation. Every other contact Jordan had called, who knew who Titan were, told him the same thing. They were legit.
He turned off the ignition and threw the keys on the dash. Getting out, he grabbed his ruck sack and weapons case from the back of his truck and made his way to the helicopter twenty yards in front of the hangar.
The pilot exited as he approached. “Jordan Grant?”
“Yes.”
“Rocco Savage.” He shook Jordan’s hand. “That all the gear you have?”
“Yeah.” He adjusted his ruck on shoulder. “What’s going to happen to my truck?”
Rocco opened the rear sliding door of the helicopter. “It’ll be safe here for now. Once we know when and where you’ll return, we’ll arrange for it to be there for you.”
Chauffeur service for his truck. Another thing to add to the list of strings these guys could pull. He threw his bag and weapons case on the floor of crew area, climbed into the co-pilot seat, and buckled his harness. Rocco handed him a set of earphones and started the engines.
“You fly?” Rocco asked.
He shook his head and watched Rocco go through the start up. “Only as a passenger. And I’m usually in the back, not in the front.”
“Totally different view up front. The flight to DC is about two hours. You can catch some zzz’s if you need to.”
The rotors whined to life and the helo shimmied as the engines revved. The lift off was smooth and slow as Rocco asked for clearance from air traffic control. The sleek machine rose, its nose slightly down as they moved forward before gaining altitude. Jordan watched the lights of the airfield fall away as they sped away.
“Do you know what the plan is?” He looked at Rocco.
Rocco glanced over at him. “We’re waiting on some final intel. Once we get to DC, we’ll have about an hour on the ground before we take off. Jared’s holding off on the full brief until you’re on the ground.”
“How long have you been with Titan?”
“A few years. Jared recruited me out of Special Forces.”
“You like it?”
Rocco grinned. “Love it, man.”
“Why?”
“You’re a Ranger, right?” Rocco glanced at him and then watch his flight instruments.
“Yeah.”
“You ever go out on a mission and realize there was no point to it? Sure, you shwacked some bad guys, but it didn’t actually accomplish anything.”
“Yeah, a few times.” Every fucking mission in Iraq and Afghanistan had left him more and more disillusioned. His soldiers were what was important. The guy or gal to his left and right. If not for them, he’d have been out of the Army a long time ago.
