CHAPTER 2
"I need you help," Michael said simply as they walked into the cabin.
"We're tired Michael, can't it wait until morning?"
"I'd prefer not to," he answered, "but my opinion isn't counting for much these days."
Was that defeat in his voice? Surely not from Michael, but he hadn't seen the usually eccentric white-clad spy like this. Even when he wasn't having one of his finer moments he looked better than this.
His mind raced back to a scene nearly seven years ago now, although it didn't seem that long ago.
He had been standing at the bar when Archangel had walked into the cabin two years since he had last seen him. It had been a rough couple years on him, he quickly observed. The white three piece suit was pristine as always, but now he wore a dark patch over his left eye and leaned heavily on a silver crested rosewood cane and currently his left arm was cradled in a also white sling, but he strode in with all of the usual pompousness despite the limp. He couldn't say the injuries didn't appear to bother him, but rather he chose to ignore them and refused to let them dampen the enthusiasm, whether appreciated or not by the Committee and his other co-workers, he showed at his job.
This was different. He didn't have the physical injuries this time, but the emotional ones were as easily evident.
"Alright, what is it?" he gave in. Michael may not have been a friend by the first definition that came to mind, but in a way they still were. Complicated was the only word he could think of to adequately describe their relationship; complicated or not though, friends were there for each other.
"Marella," he answered. "As you already know, she was sent to France for a while, then being transferred to one of our outfits in Brazil."
"And?"
"And I hadn't heard from her since then," Michael continued. "At first I didn't think much about it, after all, she isn't under and obligation to report back to me unless whatever assignment she's currently working on requires it. I had expected to hear something back though."
"I'm not seeing the problem here."
"I didn't know there was one until today. I contacted someone there only to find out the headquarters had been attacked and taken over. Chaos ruled and no one knew exactly what had happened to her until the building was bombed. She was among the injuries."
"I'm sorry, Michael. Is she going to be alright?"
"I don't know," Michael answered honestly. "After the initial count no one has seen her. No one else on the Committee sees fit to go after her since she is no longer part of out division, but there isn't anyone available to look for her with everything else that has happened down there. Maybe I'm getting too soft, and please tell me if I am, but I think that after ten years of faithful service they ought to be able to spare somebody to at least look for her."
"I can sympathize. I'm assuming you want us to go down there and see what we can find?"
"It would be appreciated. What I really need though is your opinion. The Committee isn't going to approve any funds for you to take Airwolf to South America and I can't ask you to contribute you own funds, but what should I do? Where could I star looking?"
"It could just be a misunderstanding in the confusion," Hawke suggested. "Check back again tomorrow and see if anything has changed. If not, we can fly down there commercial and see what we can work out. Until then, I suggest a good night's sleep."
\A/
Knightsbridge
8:40 am
The Next Morning
"Marella," he repeated. "Yes, I know I called yesterday. I know you said you didn't know what happened, but please check again. Alright, fine. Yes, I'll hold."
Maybe he had been the lucky one spending three months in the hospital after Red Star, he couldn't help but think. At least he hadn't had to deal with the initial chaos that inevitably followed the disaster. If it was anything like this, he wasn't sure he would have been able to handle it along with the new physical disabilities.
"Sir," the receptionist returned.
"Yes?"
"There's still no record of her ever making it to the clinic here. You're sure her injuries were serious enough to require hospitalization?"
"That's what I was told, I don't know anything."
"Sorry sir, to the best of my knowledge, she hasn't been here."
"Thank you anyway," he sighed before hanging up; unfortunately her time hadn't been at all useful and had only wasted potentially valuable time he could have been using to find Marella.
\A/
LAX Airport
Los Angeles, California
6:10 pm
Voices from all directions merged into an undecipherable, constant low roar. Some people pushed by to get to their flights before they missed them, others stopping to stare at the man wearing all white.
"What ever made you choose white?" Hawke asked. He wasn't one for small talk, but for a spy white seemed a little too conspicuous.
"The good guys wear white," Michael answered absently as he prepared to empty his pockets as they neared the security guard at the metal detector.
"Nice excuse, but you've tried that one before, and I know you haven't worn white every day of your life."
"It's easy to find and easy to match," he gave the answer almost automatically as if he had memorized a list of answered he was supposed to give when someone asked him such a question.
"Of course it's easy - you match white with white. Why really?"
"Does one need a reason to wear a certain color?"
"Humor me." In all reality, he was beginning to regret ever asking the question in the first place.
"Then you answer a question first."
"What?"
"Why were you so adamant it would only be the two of us going?"
"Why does it matter? You shouldn't need a caravan to locate one person."
"Because that wasn't the reason you gave back at the cabin. Caitlin is Marella's friend too and deserves the right to go as much as you, and you didn't seem to keen on the idea of Saint John or Dominic coming along either."
"Business at the hangar hasn't been all it could be, so me missing from the payroll for a few days isn't going to hurt things; Dom does need enough pilots there to keep it open though. I didn't want to have to rip Saint John away since he just got engaged, and I didn't think it was wise for Cait to be going."
"Because of Chance," Michael finished, "you told me that part."
"That's what I wanted her to hear, although true. The real reason I didn't want her coming was because of her condition."
"Her condition? Is something wrong?" he asked in a concerned tone.
"I thought she told you, Michael; she's pregnant again, this time with twins."