Ellie and Sameh took their bags of gear out the back of the SUV, and hunted through them, putting their tactical armor on.
It took a while. The armor needed to be buckled and shifted and settled into place to work. It needed them to remove their thicker outer clothes too, so the shock-absorbent gel packs in the armor sat reasonably snugly against their skin, no more than a thin shirt’s width away. It also meant helping each other, tugging at each other’s armor as they put it on, making sure it was sitting properly, and fastened tightly, and wasn’t going to shift around as they moved and leave gaps a bullet could pass though.
They put on their armor, and then they checked their guns, and checked their equipment, and began clipping gear onto the fastening points on the outside of the armor, then moving and jumping to make sure everything was attached properly while leaving them free to move.
It looked a bit silly, Ellie thought. There was a lot of bending over and turning and doing squats to make sure nothing was chafing. It looked silly, and Joe seemed to understand. He went around the other side of the SUV, and didn’t watch them.
Ellie dressed, and then thought about clothes. She wanted to wear something to try and hide the armour, as far she could do so. It wouldn’t be easy. The armor was bulky, and obvious, and fairly distinctive to anyone who’d ever watched TV. Even though theirs was a plain grey shade, and not quite as conspicuous as camo or matt-black color schemes were, it was still fairly clearly tac armor, rather than overalls or motorcycle trousers or whatever other kind of safety gear it might possibly be.
Ellie looked in Joe’s clothes bag again, and found a couple of larger sized long jackets. She pulled one on, over the armor, and handed the other to Sameh.
“We’ll be hot,” Sameh said.
“I know. It’s only for a few minutes.”
“Really hot.”
“Please,” Ellie said. “Don’t argue.”
Ellie knew why Sameh was complaining. This was a lot easier in the MidEast. The last few times they’d done this, in Afghanistan, they’d both just worn the loose-fitting local trousers and tunics which were baggy enough to hide anything beneath.
“I’m not arguing,” Sameh said.
“Please?”
Sameh grinned, and pulled the jacket on. She’d probably only been teasing. As she did, she said, “What about gloves?”
Ellie nodded. “They won’t be obvious when someone first sees us.”
Sameh took hers out a bag, and said, “And helmets?”
Ellie hesitated. They should wear helmets, she knew. They always should. Helmets saved your life, and sometimes they stopped you thumping your head on a low door you hadn’t noticed, and knocking yourself out at the wrong moment, which saved your life even more by sparing you an embarrassingly silly death.
Helmets saved lives, but they were also big, and obvious, and looked exactly like what effective full-face visored helmets looked like. Especially carbon-polymer compound visored helmet with heads-up display packs and rear-facing sensors and comm net aerials. There was no way they could be mistaken for casual visitors with their tac helmets on. Not for a moment.
“I don’t know,” Ellie said. “Probably not helmets. Not unless you want to?”
Sameh shrugged.
“This shouldn’t be too bad,” Ellie said. “There shouldn’t be that much risk.”
“So you say.”
“It shouldn’t,” Ellie said. “Not here. Not these guys. Just try and shoot them in the face before they do it to us, yeah?”
Sameh grinned. “Of course.”
Ellie looked in the bags again, and found a couple of caps. She gave one to Sameh, who put it on, and Ellie decided that costume was enough. The armor on their legs still showed, beneath the jackets, but if someone didn’t look too closely, or was peering through a high-mounted camera and mostly seeing their heads, then the knee-pads on their legs weren’t particularly obvious, and otherwise, with the jackets on, they mostly just looked bulky.
This wasn’t ideal, Ellie thought, but how they were dressed would do. It was only a few minutes, just to get in the door.
For that, the jackets and caps should be enough.