Jones laughed. “Hell, you’d be lucky to get expired MREs from Fox.”
“Have you ever flown in a helicopter before?” Derek asked Jenna.
She shook her head.
“It’s fun.” When the damned thing didn’t crash.
The helicopter lifted off the pad, nosed into the wind, and gained altitude.
Cruz grinned. “And we’re off.”
* * *
Jenna lookeddown on the maze of streets that was Mazar-e-Sharif, holding tightly to Derek’s hand and trying to ignore the frantic butterflies in her stomach. There was the marketplace with its many stalls where merchants sold everything from tea to jeans to handwoven carpets. Over there was Sina Stadium, where locals attended soccer games and races. And there in the heart of the city stood the beautiful Blue Mosque with its twin minarets and two turquoise domes.
The sight put a lump in her throat.
She had taken a tour of the city when she’d first arrived and had been entranced by the new sights and sounds—the song calling Muslims to prayer, the scents of coriander, cardamom, and turmeric in the marketplace, bright colors everywhere. How exhilarated she’d felt, thrilled to be somewhere new and exciting and certain that her two years here would change her life.
That had turned out to be true, but not entirely in the way she’d hoped.
The helicopter headed out of the city toward the airport, the pilot speaking helicopter talk with someone on the ground.
“We’ll be there in two minutes,” Derek said. “We’ll load into a Jeep and drive to the plane, which is waiting on the tarmac.”
Jenna nodded. “Is Elizabeth okay?”
“She’s fine. She’s through security and about to board.”
That was the part of this plan Jenna liked the least. What if someone shot or abducted Elizabeth because they believed she was Jenna? How would Jenna be able to live with that?
The helicopter descended as they neared the airport.
Derek pointed. “That’s Cobra’s hangar.”
“You have a hangar?” Her head began to throb.
“We keep the jet and this Little Bird there. If we need heavier air support, we borrow from the U.S. military.”
But Jenna barely heard him, wind buffeting the helicopter as the pilot carefully landed a hundred yards or so away from a small, white jet.
“Leave the rotors running until we’re airborne,” Derek said.
The pilot gave him a thumbs up. “You got it, boss.”
Jenna did what Derek did, pulling off her earphones, unbuckling the harness. The three men who’d come with them—Malik, Dylan, and Connor—were all business now. They jumped to the ground, bent low, spreading out, weapons raised.
It seemed unreal somehow, like something from an action movie.
Rifle in a sling on his chest, Derek climbed down and then helped Jenna out, her burqa making it hard for her to see, the fabric billowing around her in the rotor wash. With one hand protectively on her elbow and the other holding a weapon, he guided her to the Jeep. They piled in and set off for the waiting jet.
“Good morning, ma’am.” The driver smiled at her from behind mirrored sunglasses. “I’m Gabriel Ortiz. I’ll be your Uber driver today.”
See? It’s all going to plan. Everything is okay.
A minute later, they stopped and climbed out, Derek’s men standing guard around the plane while Derek led Jenna up the mobile stairway and into the aircraft.
“Wow.” The interior looked nothing like any airplane Jenna had seen.