Captive
Saint John sat alone on the couch while his brother String fixed dinner. Although Saint John personally had no problem with meat, he quickly agreed to his brother's vegetarian customs. Just about anything was a lot better than small amount of food he'd been allowed in the German prison camp or the hospital food he'd had recently, and he had to admit String made a delicious eggplant parmeasan.
Le walked into the room and soon String had him setting the table. "Dinner's ready."
Le and String sat down at the table. Saint John carefully stood up putting most of his weight on his uninjured leg and limped to the table.
"Everything is going back to normal tomorrow, right?" Saint John checked.
"Yeah, and we'll have to get a real early start to get Le here to school on time."
Even before sunrise Stringfellow Hawke was making hot coffee and getting ready for a busy day. Saint John started stirring too and made his way to the shower. Soon both he and String had pulled on sweaters and were watching the sun rise over the purple-gray mountains. Le joined them in a few minutes ready to go.
The helicopter rose slowly off the dock and flew over the mountains toward town. Just before the bell rang, Le was dropped off at school, and String directed the helicopter in the direction of the hangar. "You sure you still want to come?" he asked his brother again, "There's no way Dom's gonna let you fly and all you're going to have to do is a bunch of paperwork."
"I'm sure. If nothing else, it'll just be nice to be back."
Dom greeted them as they climbed out of the helicopter. "String, I think I'll need you to work on the Stearman today before we take it out tomorrow."
"Alright," he replied with a sigh. The Stearman definitely wasn't his favorite to work on, but somebody had to do it, and it was easier for everybody if Dom didn't throw out his back again.
Saint John retreated to the office for awhile and Dom left to drop of some film, leaving him and Caitlin alone. He decided now was as good a time as ever to start working on the Stearman.
"Hanging onto the bolts today?" Caitlin teased.
"So far," he said before intentionally dropping one. It rolled to Caitlin's feet. "Well, maybe not. Hand that to me will ya."
"I should make you pick that up yourself," Caitlin answered even as she handed it back. "You know, this reminds me an awful lot of that time when you and I first met again after you blew up the jail in Pope County with that wonderful helicopter of yours."
"What helicopter?" he joked.
"Oh no, don't start that again."
String finally finished tightening the bolt and climbed up form under the nose of the old plane. "This time don't try to get yourself shot down by going through the restricted area between here and the cabin," Hawke advised.
"Hey! It's not like I wanted to. Holly was holding a…" she stopped herself, "never mind it's not important."
"No what were you going to say?" String asked, "It's alright just tell me.''
"She was holding a gun," Caitlin answered hesitantly.
"Why?"
"She said that if she couldn't have you, then you couldn't have anyone either." Caitlin realized what she had just said. "I'm sorry. I never should have told you; it won't make things any better."
"It's ok. You're safe that's what matters."
Dom came back into the hangar and saw Hawke and Caitlin talking. Their attention turned to him at once.
"I, uh, I'll be in the office if you two need anything," Dom excused himself hoping he hadn't interrupted any important personal business. String had kind of been avoiding Caitlin lately and only now were things starting to get back to normal. He could only hope he hadn't messed that up.
Saturday morning the sun greeted the mountain air with a warm breeze. Cool but not cold, partly cloudy - perfect weather for fishing. String was out in his small fishing skiff before Dom was even up. He came back to the cabin with some freshly caught fish, but abandoned them temporarily for some hot coffee and relaxing morning on the porch. Nice weather had been predicted and they all planned to enjoy it.
When he came back inside, Caitlin had a big breakfast of eggs, toast, bacon, and orange juice. String took his plate back outside to eat it. Saint John and Caitlin soon joined him, and they all enjoyed a delicious warm breakfast in the cool, breezy air.
Dom and Le woke later and joined the three who were now on the dock. String let out a contented sigh.
"It feels nice to just sit out here and enjoy it," Caitlin remarked.
"Yeah," Dom agreed, "Real nice."
Just two days at the cabin had done a lot to rejuvenate all of them. A weekend of perfect weather, fishing, and relaxing walks through the woods was just what they had needed. Monday, however, didn't follow suit of the previous days. Le barely made it to school on time and business at the hangar was slow.
Caitlin's labored breathing became shallower. "I thought about you, and Dom, and Saint John at the cabin," she said as she sunk deeper into his arms fully relying on him to save her, if it wasn't to late already.
String's daydream, although it had been more like a nightmare, was interrupted by his own involuntary yell for Caitlin. He tried to shake off the fear of loosing her, but every time he did it would come right back. At least so far she'd come out of it alive.
Caitin rushed into the room after hearing String's shout. "You ok?" she asked in concern.
"Fine," he replied without any explanations.
"What were you yelling about then?"
"It was nothing," he answered tersely, leaving his chair to fix himself a drink.
Caitlin decided to let it go, knowing she wouldn't get a better answer out of him. "Well, if you're sure," she left the room.
Saint John came in from the opposite of the room. "Is everything alright?"
"Yeah. Everything is fine. I just need to learn to stop sleeping on the job."
"Maybe it's the weather. Some people say rain makes them tired, and it looks like our April showers are about a week early."
For the first time String noticed it was raining outside. "Yeah, maybe."
The rain didn't stop at just a shower though; it continued until it reached a torrential downpour, rain pouring down so hard you could only see a few feet in front of you outside. Dom was about ready to close up knowing they couldn't do any business like this, but also knowing it wouldn't do anyone any good to try driving home on the slippery crowded streets.
Even though most wouldn't have bothered, the downpour nor the muddy roads wouldn't deter the now grayish limo pulling up. Michael pulled his hat down low and started for the hangar before his assistant had even been able to get out of her seat.
Dominic couldn't say he was excited to see Michael, but whatever it was had to be important for him to come out in weather like this.
Michael vainly attempted to brush off some of the mud on his once white three piece suit. "I have an urgent mission for you," Michael didn't waste time with fancy explanations.
"In weather like this?" Dom gestured at the dark sky constantly being lit up with white streaks of lightening. "It's not safe to drive out there much less fly!"
"That's why I came to you. I need the best and don't bother denying it I know you've wrestled the weather before and this is important.''
Hawke raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What is so important?"
"Mike Rivers," Michael answered briefly. "He went undercover looking for someone who has stolen important military hardware and blueprints for more. We have reason to believe he has been captured and being tortured for information."
"You don't have a good record of keeping track of your secret military hardware, do you Michael?" Dom said.
"That's not the point. Now will you help or not?"
Sting, usually hesitant to accept new missions readily agreed, as did Saint John. Caitlin cast a surprised glance at the Hawke brothers.
"I owe it to him,"String explained, "if it weren't for you and him saving Saint John, I would have given up hope and probably be dead right now."
Saint John nodded his agreement. "He and Cait rescued me and he's a kind of friend. Friends help each other."
Caitlin seemed to have no problem with the mission other than her fear one of them wouldn't come back in one piece, but decided she would be the most help here in Van Nuys. "I'll stay and look after Le."
Dom also knew he wasn't cut out to be a big-shot arms dealer so he too stayed.
Airwolf's loud growl was almost drowned out by the continuous roars of thunder. Ascending higher she flew through the air to be refueled before going to save Mike.
Mike slumped into the corner of the cell he had been thrown into. He ached all over especially his ribs, some of which were probably broken, and his left arm which was now practically useless. He didn't know how much longer he could take this and he'd only been there two days.
Saint John and Stringfellow Hawke were now checked in at the Russian hotel under assumed names. String fingered his FIRM issue ID card absently. "Sure brings back memories."
Saint John said nothing in response. He'd only recently found out how his brother had gotten into the intelligence community and it had only been to find him. Saint John had new admiration for his brother. He'd known before that String could be stubborn and bull-headed, but if there was something he really wanted or thought he needed, he'd do anything to make sure it happened, even if he had to go through hell and back after years of searching.
"We'd better get to bed," String announced interrupting Saint John's thoughts. "Tomorrow we will be different people and this mission isn't going to be easy for either one of us."
Especially difficult, Saint John thought as he was still recovering from some of the long lasting effects of being shot three times and his brother had recent battles with hypothermia and the fear of loosing his only brother.
EARLY THE NEXT MORNING….
Sunlight was just beginning to peek through the narrow slits in the wall which were Mike's only source of light. He moaned in pain as he shifted his weight off the cold hard ground he'd had to sleep on. A tall Russian pounded on the steel door and came in.
"Good morning, Mr. Rivers," he greeted cheerfully. "Might you have any information for me today?" he asked in heavily accented English.
"I told you, you won't get anything from me- you'll have to kill me first," Mike's normally cheerful mood was gone without a trace.
"I could arrange for that, but I'd rather not. Perhaps your American friends will send that beautiful black helicopter in after you. I'd love to get my hands on that even more than this information."
String and Saint John dressed in the unfamiliar clothes. "Well, this should be interesting," Saint John remarked. "I haven't been undercover in a long time."
"Yeah," the younger Hawke answered letting out a long sigh, "It'll be interesting."
They packed their FIRM ID's and rented a limo, soon arriving at the warehouse. They looked through the weapons they would supposedly be selling to the Russians, but the real fun wouldn't begin until after sundown.
Mike, shoved back into his small cell, crumpled into a heap on the floor again. The awkward position caused excruciating pain, but he stayed there unable to move. He tried as best as he could to ignore the pain shooting throughout his body so that he could listen to the conversation of his Russian captors.
"I hear there are new people going to be at the spot tonight," one of the said.
"They're American mercenaries, just came from Germany and Poland."
"It would be wise to stock up," the first spoke again, "we wouldn't want to loose our status as a world power, now would we?"
The second man agreed. "Maybe these Americans will be selling some of the information we are looking for."
"Or better yet, information on their black helicopter. I'd love to get my hands on that beautiful bird."
Saint John and String ambled casually into the club. After ordering drinks, they inconspicuously observed their surroundings.
Mike's captor, Maksin, walked toward them and soon they were doing major business. "We'll bring it by tomorrow," String informed. "You can be expecting us."
Mike was surprised when his Russian enemies didn't come to get information from him the next morning-not that it disappointed him- but it did kind of worry him though. What were they planning? Far on the other end of the large house, he could faintly hear the doorbell ringing-at least he thought he did.
Maksin answered the door. "Mr. Jordan, It's nice to see you again."
"No, the pleasure is all mine," String replied, carefully hiding the smirk that threatened to spread across his face. Lightly tapping the large box next to him he asked, "Where do you want it?"
"I'll see to it that my men take care of it immediately."
"I insist. I like to finish everything personally."
"What happened to your friend? I was expecting both of you," the Russian inquired.
"Let's just say he got in the way."
He pushed the large crate down the hallway and into an empty room lined with shelves. "If you don't mind, I'd like to inspect these weapons," the Russian said starting toward the crate.
"Allow me," String offered. He fumbled with the lid for a moment then pulled the top off. Saint John jumped out of the box and landed a heavy fist against the guard heading for him. String covered his brother's back, taking out the other guard.
"Where is he?" String demanded leveling his gun at the Russian. Left with no other options, Maksin led the Hawke brothers to the small cell where Mike was being held.
String and Saint John immediately rushed into the tiny, concrete-block walled cell. Mike lay slumped in a dark corner. Just coming to after being knocked unconscious from a violent headfirst shove into the wall, Mike looked blearily at the fuzzy images around him and desperately tried to focus. "Saint John?" he asked after finally thinking he'd identified one of them.
"Yeah, it's me," Saint John answered encouragingly. "Come on; let's get you out of here."
Saint John assisted Mike to his feet and to the door. String, gun still drawn, followed trying to cover them. "Sinj! Watch out!" String warned trying to get a clear shot.
Too late, Saint John turned around just in time to see a big man barreling towards him. They impacted with a loud thump onto the floor. String, coming to his brother's aid, took on the other man. Saint John finally ended up on top. He took a couple blows to the face and a sharp kick in the side, but managed to choke out the man leaving him unconcious on the floor. String started with a disadvantage as the second man was a good eight inches taller than he was. Taking advantage of his smaller size, he ducked a punch then landed his own into the other man's chest. A hard right hook nailed him in the jaw and he slammed against the wall. Saint John tackled the tall Russian giving his brother a moment to recover from the hit. Now focusing his attention on Saint John, he grabbed a hold of the older Hawke's neck and tried to choke him. Saint John desperately tried to break the man's grip, but no such luck. String gathered all the energy he had left to fling himself at his brother's attacker and end the fight. Saint John and String took no time to note their injuries, only taking enough time to gather themselves and Mike to get out of that place.
"Why won't Uncle String or Saint John let me ride in that big black helicopter?" Le asked curiously.
"They just don't want you to get hurt," Caitlin answered. "That's a really special helicopter and someone always seems to be after it or trying to shoot it down. It's just easier the less people involved." Caitlin glanced up at the clock, "It's getting late, come on you'd better get to bed."
Maksin had escaped in the chaos of Mike's rescue, but he still didn't have the information he was looking for. Now, he decided, I know those two Americans must know something. All I have to do is find out what.
The rented limo waited patiently at the parking lot where the driver had been instructed. The injured trio had just gotten in. "Back to the hotel," String directed. The limo rolled forward in the direction of the hotel. Just before they made it to the highway, a gunshot hit one of the tires. It swerved for a minute then jerked to a stop. Maksin yanked open the door.
"I have some unfinished business with you, Len Jordan, or whoever you are, and your partner might also be of some use." He and his cohort grabbed for the two Hawkes.
Leaving the injured Mike, Maksin took String and Saint John back with him. "What hotel were they staying at?" Mike asked the limo driver urgently. The driver gave him the name and address. With the information, Mike awkwardly made his way back to the highway. He hitch-hiked his way to the hotel and with a tremendous amount of effort made it into their room.
He grasped the phone and dialed the number to Knightsbridge. Marella answered.
"I need to talk to Archangel," Mike said.
Marella transferred the call and Michael picked up.
"Michael," Mike addressed, "Can you get a location on Airwolf-I assume that's what your people came in."
Michael stifled the small laugh at the analogy of the Hawkes being his people, but he immediately realized the seriousness of the situation. "Airwolf? You lost Airwolf!?"
"I didn't loose it. I never knew where it was. I just need to find out were it is and hope I can fly it by myself."
"Please explain," Michael inquired more calmly after regaining his lost composure. "Why can't the others help, or for that matter do it themselves?"
"Cause we ran into a few problems," Mike replied shortly. "Now can I please get a location on Airwolf?"
Michael gave him the coordinates to her last known position.
Mike gazed at the beautiful black helicopter basking in the suns rays. "It's time to go save your buddies," Mike said aloud.
Alone in the small cell-like room, String and Saint John stared out the little slits. "I've got a plan," Saint John finally announced.
The second that the guard started into the room, Saint John yanked the door open knocking him off balance then pounced on him. String ran down the hallway towards the front door, but his brother never joined him. He ran back to the cell muttering under his breath the whole way. Maksin had by now caught up with them and was holding Saint John's shoulder harshly.
"Let him go," String ordered. "I'm the one you want anyway."
Closing in on him, Maksin grabbed for the younger Hawke. "I have a better idea. I'll keep both of you."
Saint John yelled out while shoving the Russian away, "String get out of here!"
The North Vietnamese were still shooting from across the shallow murky water. String, who was flying medevac, brought the helicopter closer to the ground. Saint John went down on his way to the helicopter. "Come on."
The lines filled up too fast though-he couldn't hold anymore. "String, get out of here, go on git!" Saint John yelled.
"Saint John, Mace, you hang on, I'm coming back."
Reluctantly, String knowing he had no way to help his brother, he flew the rescue helicopter away. "I'm coming back-I swear to God I am," he promised. Little did he know he would spend sixteen years after the war looking for his brother. Long after the Vietnam War, regret still filled him.
"No, not this time," String answered. "I'm not leaving you again."
Both of them were thrown back into the small room. "I'll deal with you two later," the Russian promised menacingly.
"String, you should have been out already. Why did you come back?"
"For you," Stirng returned, "why else? I couldn't leave you-not again."
"String, it's over. I'm back; you don't have to hang on to that anymore."
But I always will, he mused I must have been able to do something more, so that you didn't have to go through that hell for sixteen years. "Let's just figure out how to get out of here and back to Mike."
Taking out the guards would be more difficult now that they knew the prisoners would put up a fight and neither one treated either American with any care or concern as they forcefully shoved their captives back into their holding cell after a brutal beating.
"Why aren't we getting anywhere?" Maksin questioned angrily. "The first one got away without telling us a thing and the other two almost did too."
"It'll work," the other Russian promised, "Just give it time."
Maksin's right hand man barged into the cell. "You two are gonna be hating life if you don't start spilling now, and don't even think about trying to escape again. Even if one of you makes it, the other will pay dearly for it. Now, back to business, where is that amazing attack helicopter you Americans have?"
"Rumor has it, it didn't survive the rescue attempt in Libya," String answered.
Taras threw an angry fist at him landing hard against his stomach. String hit the ground, gasping for air. "That's not true and you know it. Now tell me where it is."
"Saint John interjected, "why would we know where it is anyway?"
The Russian cast a warning glare at him. "I know you do."
"Well you're wrong. We don't have a clue where it is. The government agencies like to keep that kind of stuff a secret, you know what I mean?"
"Unless you find some way to tell me something, neither one of you will make it out alive."
After Taras left, String started talking again. "Next time he comes you get out. I'll try to get out too, but don't wait on me."
"I'm not leaving you any more than you would leave me."
"You will if you have to," his brother said firmly. "It's not your job to watch out for me anymore, and a whole lot more people than just me are going to be dead if they get a hold of the Lady before we do."
With his brother's help, Saint John made it out without getting too many more bruises. Unfortunately, String wasn't as lucky. 'Borrowing' one of the jeeps, Saint John drove as fast as possible to the mountain valley where Airwolf was being hidden. Determined not to let what happened to him happen to his brother, he planned to rescue String then worry about where Mike disappeared to.
Even as he reached the valley, Saint John could hear Airwolf's engines start and the rotors cutting through the air. He grabbed the gun laying in the seat next to him and crept toward Airwolf knowing that if he didn't take out whoever was in Airwolf before they took off, he would be as good as dead and so would his brother.
Saint John moved silently until the hiss of his opening the door gave his position away. "Freeze!" he yelled aiming the gin at the interior. "Mike!" he exclaimed lowering the gun. "How did you find the Lady?"
"Called Archangel," Mike answered simply, "Where's little brother?"
"He didn't make it out," Saint John answered. "We've got to get him out before he gets himself killed. They've already threatened to kill us after our first escape failed, and they aren't the kind of guys to play around."
"Let's go then."
Airwolf ascended into the sky, then shot off. "Does your brother just have a thing for trouble?" Mike asked good-naturedly. "When I first met him he was in the hospital, last time we got temporarily taken down, and now he's in a Russian prison camp."
"I guess he does, but Airwolf comes with her advantages as well as her disadvantages. Lately I think just about the whole world is after her."
"Mike, load a maverick," Saint John directed, "and start the scans. I want to make sure he's where he was when I left before I start blowing up things."
"Confirmed," Mike answered. "String is in a medium sized brick building on the other end," Rivers reported.
"The torture chamber," Saint John recalled, "give me chain guns one and two."
The chain guns tore up the ground next to the room but no one even came to see what it was. Saint John fired a missile into the opposite end of the building hoping to draw their attention. "They're taking it. Everyone except one is heading to that end," Mike reported happily.
"Take over," Saint John said, "I'm going to go get my brother." Before Mike even had a chance to get all three wheels of the landing gear on the ground Saint John had jumped out and run inside the building.
"String, where are you?" Saint John yelled, entering the dark room. Following a muffled groan the traced his way in until his eyes accustomed themselves to the darkness. "String!" he cried out. Chained to the wall, a bruised and bloody figure hunched against the far wall. "What did they do to you?"
A shaking hand gestured at the heavy chains around his wrists and ankles. "The k-keys over there," he nodded weakly in the direction of the door. Grabbing the keys, Saint John tried each until one worked.
String struggled against gravity only to collapse back against the wall. Saint John reached over to help his brother. Although wincing in pain from his own injuries, he dragged String back outside.
Missiles at the other end exploded as Mike directed Airwolf back to the spot where he had let Sain John out. He landed on the rocky, dry soil with a soft thump.
Mike who was still piloting Airwolf from the co-pilots's seat asked what had happened, as he got out to help the injured brothers.
"I don't know exactly," Saint John admitted, "they said if one of us tried to escape the other would pay. String insisted I had to be the one to get out. When I got back in there he was chained to a wall and really weak. All I know is we better get him back him fast.
Mike agreed and hit the turbos directing them home.
Le and Caitlin were assisting Dom with business at Santini Air. Le had just finished sweeping the floor when a loud whine filled the air. Dominic and Caitlin rushed to the window just in time to see Airwolf land just outside. "They're back!" Caitlin shouted as she ran out to greet them.
Mike who was already already out of Airwolf called over to Caitlin, "Get the first aid kit and a couple of seats."
Caitlin ran back inside, hastily cleared three chairs, and grabbed the first aid kit and a wet warm rag.
"What are you doing?" Le asked.
"They're back," was all Caitlin said in reply.
Saint John climbed out of the helicopter followed by his brother. He was now much steadier on his feet. Mike went inside the hangar and sat in one of the vacant chairs. Grabbing the kit, he awkwardly started to clean himself up without the use of his left arm. Saint John was next inside. Dom steadied String as he stumbled. "Boy, they really worked on you guys didn't they?" he said noting the many bruises each had.
"We'll be ok."
Dom helped Saint John get cleaned up then aided Mike in wrapping his arm while Caitlin tended to String. After helping him to a chair she took the rag and rubbed the blood off his face. When she reached his arms, she noticed the tiny pin pricks and scratches.
"What happened?" she asked pointing to them.
"Drugs. Saint John pretty much had to carry me out, but I already feel a lot better."
"You guys should go see a doctor after all you've been through."
"Listen to me for once, Cait," he retorted wearily. " I don't know about them, but I'm not going to see any doctor. I'll be just fine."
Dom drove Mike back to his apartment, and Saint John rifled through the cabinet in the bathroom for some pain killers for his brother who still persisted in telling them he was fine even though his pain was obvious.
Cailtin still worried about String.
"Cait, you've done enough. I'll be ok."
"If you aren't going to see a doctor, then you'll just have to sit here until I'm through with you," she answered partly frustrated at his stubbornness, but mostly just enjoying having him back safe with her.
String gave her a grateful kiss. "Thanks, but really I'm fine. Just a little rest and I'll be back to normal."
Caitlin blushed slightly. If he continued like this, she wasn't sure she wanted him back to normal. "Alright," she said sighing. "Come on, I'll fly you back to the cabin." Reaching down, she gave him a hand up, her arm encircling his waist. Together they headed out to the jet ranger.