Chapter One.
Northridge Medical Centre, Van Nuys, California.
Early hours of the morning, Saturday 26th May, 1984.
Dominic Santini's head shot up as he heard the door at the far end of the corridor swing open and then quietly swish shut.
He watched a young woman, petite and very slender, her short auburn hair slightly unkempt, clad in green surgical scrubs, walk slowly down the corridor toward the nurses station desk and speak to one of the nurses.
It was the same pretty young thing who had watched over Dominic sympathetically as he had filled in the necessary paperwork, while the medical staff had taken care of his young friend.
Dominic watched, his heart in his mouth now, as the young woman in the surgical scrubs turned to look at him and nodded her thanks to the young nurse.
The woman in the scrubs began to walk toward him, and he rose stiffly to greet her, his hat, a battered silky red baseball cap in one hand, the other extended to her in greeting.
"Mr Santini?" He nodded as she took his big, rough hand briefly in her small warm one. "I'm Dr Amanda Brentwood …. I am the surgeon who has been attending to Mr Hawke …."
"How is he?"
Amanda Brentwood immediately felt for the older man.
He looked tired and ashen, his hands trembling slightly, and her heart went out to him.
It was immediately obvious that he cared a great deal for the young man she had just spent time with in the operating room.
Dominic Santini regarded her with big, solemn blue/grey eyes, his anxiety plain to see.
After what had greeted Dominic Santini at the hangar earlier, he was surprised at just how calm he sounded.
It had been one of the worst experiences of his life ….
Seeing Hawke, lying there ….
Lifeless ….
Covered in blood ….
Unconscious and barely breathing ….
He had seriously considered that this time, his young friend might not make it.
His colour had been awful ….
His breathing shallow and raspy …. Barely audible ….
Santini had wasted no time in calling for an ambulance and had somehow managed to get his stiff, awkward old body down on to the floor close beside Hawke …. Holding his cold hand ….
So cold ….
The young man completely unresponsive ….
To either his voice or his touch ….
Wanting so desperately to lift him up off the cold floor and cradle him in his arms, but afraid that if he moved him he might do irreparable damage to the younger man ….
So Dominic had had to make do with holding his limp, cold hand ….
And telling him that everything would be ok ….
Tears falling silently but unashamedly down his pasty face as he waited for the ambulance to arrive.
As a matter of course, the police had also arrived and had tried their damnedest to get him to co-operate with them, but he had insisted that he knew nothing ….
That he had simply been concerned that something had happened to his colleague and that after calling the guy who owned the neighbouring lot and learning that a very valuable aircraft had been left out on the tarmac, he had just known that something was wrong ….
He had gotten here as quickly as he could, and had found Hawke lying unconscious on the floor, and the hangar wrecked ….
However, the two young police officers had recognised the fact that he was in shock and that they would probably not get anything more coherent out of the old man that night, sensing that the most important thing on his mind, was getting into the back of that ambulance with Hawke and accompanying him to the hospital.
The young police officers had finally realised that he would not be persuaded other wise and let him go, telling him that they would require a statement from him first thing tomorrow.
At first, Dominic had not thought too much about Hawke's lateness ….
He knew the younger man had wanted to finish as much of the work on the Stearman as he could ….
He also knew that that was why Hawke had stopped answering the telephone …. He knew it was just the old timer …. Bored and lonely and wanting to bug him …. And so after the third attempt, Santini had given up and reluctantly decided to let the youngster alone to get on with the job in hand.
But he also knew that Hawke had a date with his lady tonight ….
A very important date ….
So when he hadn't turned up by six thirty that evening, bearing the groceries that Santini had requested, he had called the hangar again …. But again there had been no reply.
By seven fifteen, Santini had begun to get really worried and called his friend Elliott, the man who owned the lot next to his own, knowing that he never left before eight o'clock every evening, and asked him if he had seen Hawke leave.
When Elliott had confirmed that although the hangar was in darkness, the Stearman was still outside on the tarmac, along with the Santini Air jeep, Dominic Santini knew that something was not right.
There was no way that String would just have gone off and left the Stearman sitting on the tarmac.
No way ….
Dominic had dressed hurriedly in faded and patched old jeans and an old work shirt and gotten his beaten up old truck out of the garage and driven like a bat out of hell down to the hangar ….
And the sight that had greeted him when he flicked on the lights had almost given him a fatal heart attack ….
The hangar was a wreck …
And then he had found Hawke ….
Sprawled on the floor, face pulverised almost beyond recognition ….
And when he had been unable to rouse the younger man, he had immediately called for an ambulance.
The medics in the ambulance had given him little heed as they worked on trying to locate all of Hawke's injuries, and when they had arrived at Northridge Medical Centre, they had speedily rolled Hawke into the Emergency Room, while at the same time indicating that Santini go to the desk and register him.
That had been hours ago ….
How many hours, Santini wasn't sure ….
But it had felt like an eternity.
Everyone was so young ….
Nice ….
Pleasant ….
Smiling and confident ….
But so young ….
And he felt so old and tired and useless ….
No-one had seen fit to come and tell him how Hawke was doing ….
Probably because he wasn't a close, or blood relative ….
Until the pretty blonde nurse on duty at the desk, had finally taken pity on him, coming over to him with coffee, in a small plastic cup and a look of concern etched on her pretty face.
That was when Santini had realised that he obviously didn't look too clever himself.
The blonde nurse had sat down beside him and given him the coffee, taking in his pallor with big concerned grey eyes, then she had offered to try to find out what was happening with Hawke.
When she returned a little while later, it was to say that he was doing well, but that they were waiting to get him into the operating theatre as he needed surgery to reset his fractured jaw ….
Dear God ….
"Give it to me straight, Doc …." Santini sighed now, as the young doctor gently took his elbow and guided him back to the couch, indicating that he should take a seat.
Dominic, ever the gentleman, indicated that she should sit first.
She smiled tiredly at him, but sat down, nonetheless.
"Now …. Don't hold anything back …."
"It's all right, Mr Santini …. Your young friend is strong and generally in good health …." Dr Brentwood took hold of one of Dominic's big hands and stilled him. "He's fine …. Very lucky actually …. No broken limbs …. No skull fracture …. Ribs in tact …."She did not mention her curiosity about the number of old injuries that had shown up on the X Rays …. Old fractures long healed, but others that seemed to be more recent, although there was nothing to indicate how he had gotten them in his medical file ….
Still, with his occupation ….
Stunt pilot ….
It went with the territory, she had guessed.
"It seems that his face has taken most of the trauma …. He has general bruising to the chest and abdomen and he took quite a nasty kick to the kidneys, but there is no damage …." She told him calmly.
"However, he does have a fractured jaw, which we have now reset …. This also means that we had to wire his jaw …. To keep it in place."
"Geez …."
"It's not as bad as it sounds …. He won't be able to speak or eat very well for a few weeks, but I am confident that he will make a full recovery, without any further complications. However, it doesn't look pretty …." She smiled softly then and gave his hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance.
"And he will probably hate the liquids only …. and then soft foods only diet he will have to be on for the next six to eight weeks. Could be that he won't be very good company to be around for a while." She grinned then.
That was probably the biggest understatement of the year ….
"We can give him medication for the pain and we can advise him on what dietary supplements he can take to keep up his strength …. They're generally liquids, easy to swallow but not very filling, and not always very palatable, Steak Diane or cheese burgers they're not …. but they serve their purpose …." She smiled softly again.
"And we will see him again in a few weeks, to release a few of the wires so that he will have a little more movement in his bottom jaw. He will then be able to have something a little more solid .… Soup …. Pureed fruit and vegetables …. That kind of thing …." She smiled again, noting the sour look on the old man's face.
"He might also require a little cosmetic dental work, but all in all …. I would say he came out of it lightly."
"Lightly!" Santini exclaimed incredulously.
"He could have had much more serious injuries, Mr Santini …. Internal injuries. It was quite a significant beating …." She told him candidly now.
"With all the trauma to his head .… There could also have been a skull fracture …. Or some brain injury …. Swelling …."
Amanda Brentwood did not mention to Santini her concerns that the beating had been so concentrated on the young man's face, it had been as though the perpetrators had been trying to obliterate him ….
Who could so hate the younger man that they wanted to destroy is face ….
Still, it wasn't any of her business.
It was a pity though ….
She had seen the photo on his ID and he had been quite an attractive guy ….
She saw the look of horror on the older man's face then and added quickly.
"But we did an EEG scan and there is nothing like that to worry about …" She told him confidently then.
"He has a mild concussion …. Perhaps a little temporary amnesia … We will know more when he comes out of the anaesthesia …. I'm sure you can understand that he wasn't able to tell us much when he was admitted …. But any memory loss will only be temporary …. And it will pass in time …." She reassured, seeing what little colour was left there, drain out of Santini's face.
"Holy cow …."
"Frankly, Mr Santini, his face is a mess …. But it will heal …. There are no other broken facial bones …. It's mostly soft tissue damage …. But just to be on the safe side, I have asked a colleague of mine …. A specialist in plastic surgery and facial reconstructions …. To take a look at him …. When the swelling has gone down. We will get a better idea at that time if there will be any significant scarring …."
"Holy Mowley …." Dominic Santini let out a deep sigh and hung his head briefly, needing to hide his anguish from the pretty redhead.
"Please don't worry yourself, Mr Santini …. Mr Hawke is in good hands with us …. He is also very strong …. Physically …."
"Will he be in here long, Doc?"
"Wait and see …. If he comes out of the surgery well and copes with having his jaw wired closed, then we could be looking at releasing him after a couple of weeks …. But certainly not before …. He's had a pretty nasty shock to his system …." She told him with an edge of determination. "He really is in the best place, Mr Santini …."
The old man's expression told her better than any words how deeply upset he was about the whole thing, and that he realised that the longer the younger man was required to stay in hospital, the worse his injuries were ….
"These things take time …. and I would imagine that he will be feeling pretty sore and pretty sorry for himself for quite a while yet …. But he has you to take care of him …. That will make all the difference." She gently rubbed a reassuring hand up and down Dominic Santini's fore arm then.
"How are you holding up, Mr Santini?" She asked in a gentle voice, regarding him with gentle but concerned eyes.
In her professional opinion, he looked like a prime candidate for a coronary …. Poor diet resulting in his being over weight, into his late sixties, sedentary lifestyle with little or no exercise …. Blood pressure probably through the roof ….
And with the added shock of discovering what had happened to his young friend….
He could probably count himself very lucky that he was still standing upright right now ….
"Me? I'm ok …." He suddenly grew bashful, touched by her genuine concern for his wellbeing, unaware of the thoughts running through her mind. "I've had a head cold …. A little fever …. But I was already beginning to feel better …." He told her shyly.
"You've had quite a shock …. It wouldn't hurt to get yourself checked out …. I can arrange it for you …."
"Oh no …. I'm fine …. Really …. Just need a little shuteye …."
"Would you like me to write something up for you …. A mild sedative? It's no trouble …. Really …." She offered.
"No …. I'll be ok …." He assured her, rising suddenly. "Can I see him?"
"Not tonight, I'm afraid …." She rose too, sighing softly as she noted the disappointment on his rumpled old face.
"He's going to need very close monitoring throughout the night …." She explained gently, not wanting to add to his anguish.
"There could still be a few …. complications …. due to the concussion …. If he gets sick, we might have to release the wires on his teeth so that he doesn't aspirate …. Choke …. And that will mean that we will then have to take him back into theatre to reset his jaw …." She told him gently.
"Oh my God …."
"I'm not saying it will happen …. Only that it could, and we have to watch him carefully …. Best not to get under the nurses feet, eh …." She placed a warm hand on his forearm once again.
"Let him rest …. And you do the same. I have a feeling that he won't give you much peace when he finally does get out of this joint …." She grinned most charmingly then.
"But …." Dominic protested.
"They'll call you if anything changes …." She told him, applying pressure to his forearm now, guiding him toward the elevator. "Goodnight Mr Santini …. It was very nice to meet you …."
She reached out to push the button to summon the elevator and the door opened immediately. Still smiling gently, she gave him a small push toward the open elevator door.
"Drink plenty of fluids and take Vitamin C …." Dominic frowned at her as the door began to close between them. "For the head cold …." She grinned, and it was the last thing Dominic Santini saw as the door closed and the elevator car made a small lurch as it began its downward journey
Santini Air Hangar, Van Nuys, California
Saturday 26th May, 1984 - Mid morning.
"So …. what's your take on this?"
Dominic Santini sat at his work bench and watched Michael Coldsmith Briggs III surveying the mess around the hangar.
The government agent, Marella in tow, had turned up ten minutes before, after having visited Stringfellow Hawke in the hospital.
After leaving the hospital in the early hours of that morning, Dominic Santini had returned to the hangar knowing that he had to get the Stearman inside and under lock and key before morning. However, he had been unable to summon the energy or the inclination to tidy up the wreckage of the hangar ….
Although he had forced himself to mop up the blood stains on the concrete floor ….
Unable to bear looking at them ….
Seeing Hawke lying there ….
Recalling that upon first sight, he had thought that the younger man was dead ….
It had been a futile action ….
It hadn't helped ….
Santini suspected that the image would haunt him for the rest of his life ….
Maybe even give him nightmares ….
He had also placed a call to the Firm and left a message for Marella, unaware that Archangel was back from his enforced vacation.
Archangel had called him back within the hour and Dominic had given him as much detail as he knew ….
Which didn't amount to a whole lot ….
Dominic had then wearily forced himself to go home to his empty house, where he had spent a sleepless night ….
Lying fully clothed on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and remembering key events in his and Hawke's life thus far….
He had come close to losing the young man on a number of occasions ….
Not just to death …
Although, the young Hawke had had more than his fair share of brushes with the Grim Reaper ….
His parents boating accident ….
The car crash that had killed that lovely girl that he had been dating before he went off to war …
The Vietnam War it's self ….
But there had been other things that had threatened to snatch the young man away ….
A fate worse than death ….
To lose himself ….
His very essence ….
To depression ….
Deep, black, destructive and all consuming depression ….
Losing his beloved older brother, St John …. Missing In Action in Vietnam these many years ….
The pain and the grief and the guilt had almost consumed the younger Hawke brother ….
Almost ….
But somehow, despite the odd relapse, and the tendency to face the world with an austere scowl, he had managed to claw his way out of the quagmire of depression ….
Make something of his life ….
And in recent months, Dominic Santini had begun to believe that that was all behind them ….
Thanks mainly to that lovely girl ….
Alex ….
Oh dear God ….
Alex ….
It had been then that Dominic had remembered that Hawke had been meant to see her that evening …. Had been meant to meet her for dinner ….
Oh God ….
What must she be thinking, poor kid ….
He had stood her up ….
Because, he couldn't deal with her illness ….
Because he couldn't face the possibility that she might die suddenly too …. Leaving him alone again ….
Oh Lord ….
Poor kid ….
But Dominic had no idea how to reach her ….
Dammit, at that moment, he couldn't even remember her last name ….
He was so tired, he couldn't think straight ….
However, he had a horrible feeling that Hawke would not want her to see him looking like that ….
Especially, if the scars to his face proved to be permanent ….
Hawke would not want to inflict that on her ….
Better to let her think that he was weak ….
Than to worry her ….
Frighten her ….
Invoke her pity ….
Damn ….
Damn String, for playing things so close to his chest ….
Why couldn't he be like other guys and bring his girl around for his friends and family to meet ….
The way he acted, anyone would think that the moment he did, someone would wheel him straight off to the nearest looney bin ….
Or straight down the nearest church aisle ….
And now he was here.
Dominic Santini was so weary and so heartsick, he didn't have the patience to deal with the government agent with much in the way of civility at that moment, but, for String's sake, he knew he had to hold onto his temper …. And try to be civil and co-operative.
"Dominic …." Archangel's voice rose a notch, bringing Dominic Santini back to the present and he frowned at the government agent. "I said …. What is your take on all this …." He waved his silver handled wooden cane around the hangar then, looking stone faced and puzzled, as well as concerned for the older man who looked grey in the face and suddenly very old and very vulnerable ….
Archangel had despatched Marella to check with the neighbours to see if any of them had seen anything suspicious …. Anything helpful ….
"I don't know …." Dominic rubbed absently at his temple as he watched Archangel limp around the hangar. "It looks a whole lot worse than it really is …. Just a whole heap of stuff thrown around …. It don't add up …." He sighed deeply.
Archangel had to agree with him.
It didn't add up at all.
The severity of the attack on Hawke was one thing ….
The ferocity ….
And the concentration of injuries to his face ….
Over kill almost ….
Well planned and well executed ….
And pointed to something other than the implied robbery ….
The mess in the hangar was very amateurish and smacked of being a very poor after thought ….
Unconvincing as being made to look like a robbery ….
Even with the damage to the door of the Bell Jet Ranger ….
No ….
Dominic was correct.
It didn't add up.
"You've seen him?" Dominic asked now, anxious to know how his young friend was doing.
He had called the hospital first thing that morning and was given the pat answer that Mr Hawke had had a 'comfortable night' ….
However, when he had enquired about visitors, he had been told politely, but firmly, that Mr Hawke was heavily sedated and would not be receiving visitors until tomorrow at the earliest.
However, all Archangel had to do was wave his ID under their noses and they would have rolled out the red carpet for him to stroll down ….
Archangel stopped his pacing and turned back to look at Dominic Santini.
The two men had a strange relationship ….
Ragging on each other …. rubbing each other up the wrong way ….
Barely tolerating each other ….
Often times not even speaking to each other ….
But there was no denying that Dominic Santini was a good man with a big, gentle, generous heart ….
And he genuinely cared for Hawke ….
Had supported him and guided him and raised him to be the man that he was ….
The man, incidentally, that Michael Coldsmith Briggs III admired greatly.
And so Dominic was, therefore, no matter how grudgingly …. A man to be respected.
Stringfellow Hawke would not have been able to do half the work for the Firm that he had done in the past few months without Dominic Santini's help ….
They were a team.
Hawke, Airwolf …. And Santini ….
"And please don't sugar coat the pill, Michael …." Dominic sighed again now, watching Archangel's face as he tried to decide what to tell the older man.
"You spoke to the surgeon, I understand …." Santini nodded. "And Marella and I spoke to the attending physician, before we went into see him …."
"Just spit it out, Michael …." Dominic was losing patience now.
"He's ….." Archangel sighed expressively. "He looked like hell …." He said matter of factly. "In fact, if I hadn't seen his name on the notes on his bed, I wouldn't have recognised him …. But …." He added hastily. "He will be all right …. The prognosis is good …." He assured.
"They have him sedated and hooked up to IV's and monitors right now, but there haven't been any complications and they were talking about reducing the sedation and seeing how he coped with sips of water …. You know, Dominic, I could arrange to have him moved to Knightsbridge …. Their medical facility is second to none …. And he would be easier to protect there …."
"You leave him where he is, Whitey …. I want him where I can see him …."
"Dominic, we wouldn't prevent you from visiting …." Archangel sighed in exasperation, miffed by the implication that once they had Hawke in their clutches they would keep him and maybe work on him to reveal the location of Airwolf ….
"So, what's your take on this?" Santini turned the question back on the government agent then.
"I'm not sure …. But I agree that it isn't all that it appears …."
"Something we agree on …. At last …." Dominic rubbed at his temple once again, leaving a smear of black grease on his furrowed brow.
"He …. Hawke …. Hasn't upset anyone lately, has he?" Archangel asked then, regarding Santini with his one good eye. "He hasn't been …." He paused, trying to find a tactful way to put what he wanted to ask. "Paddling …. in someone else's pool …. I know he's been …. Shall we say …. Romantically involved recently …. He hasn't unwittingly …." He clarified, noting the thunderous expression on the older man's face now. "He hasn't stepped on someone's toes …. An angry husband …. Boyfriend …."
"No, of course not …." Santini kept his cool, outraged on Hawke's behalf, but, supposing that under the circumstances, it wasn't such a dumb question ….
Except that Archangel knew Hawke a damned sight better than that.
"I don't know too much about the young lady in question …. Except that it is getting quite serious …. On both sides …."
Archangel arched an eyebrow at this piece of news.
So, Marella's female intuition had been correct after all ….
Well, well, well ….
"Me …. I think some very nasty people set their hearts on getting certain information out of Hawke …. And he took one helluva beating to protect that secret …."
"I concur …."
"What?" Santini frowned.
"I agree …."
"Oh …. Well speak the English …."
Archangel took a deep breath and expelled it slowly, knowing that Dominic Santini was still very shocked and upset by recent events and that he should make allowances ….
But it wasn't easy ….
Sometimes ….
"D G Bogard?" Santini offered.
"Oh no …. Bogard is flying a desk in Baltimore …." Archangel informed succinctly. "I think these fellows came from …. A little further a field …."
"Oh …." Dominic Santini's eyes narrowed then in suspicion. "You know something …." It wasn't a question, but a statement. "Dammit …. You know something, Michael …."
"I don't know anything …. For sure …. Snippets of information …. Nothing that amounted to anything …. All I do know is that certain people, who suddenly showed up on the Firm's radar, paid Hawke a visit yesterday …. And left again …. Seemingly, as innocently as they arrived …." Archangel imparted succinctly.
"You were having Hawke watched?" Dominic Santini regarded him with incredulity.
"No …. Not Hawke …. Them …. I was having them watched …." Archangel confirmed with a sour look.
"Look Dominic …. I acted on certain information received …. But it was nothing specific to Hawke …. Just a hunch I had anyway …. And I can't really be sure that this incident is down to them …. It could have just been some drugged up junkie looking for money …."
"Baloney …."
"Whatever …." Archangel shrugged and set to pacing up and down again. "I assume …. She …. Is safe?"
"My God, Michael …. You really are a piece of …." Dominic noticed Archangel's wince and amended what he was going to say. "Work …. Don't you know by now that Hawke would rather die than reveal her location …. He may get a little crazy some times, but he's no traitor …."
"I think he has demonstrated that most effectively after last night, Dominic …. But …. Wouldn't it be prudent to move her …. Just in case …."
"No. She's fine where she is."
"Forgive me, Dominic, but why should I take your word for it …."
"Because I know String …. And I know he would have died before he told them anything …. The Lady means too much to him …. You know that …."
"All right …. But the first hint of any trouble …."
"Don't threaten me, Michael …."
"I'm not threatening you, Dominic, I'm trying to help you …."
"Help me …. Where were you when String needed help, huh? Your kind of help I can live without …."
"Dominic …." Archangel paused, reining in his temper. "Is there anything that I can do? For Hawke? For you?"
"Don't call us, we'll call you …."
"All right. Call me …. If you need anything …. Anything at all, Dominic …."
Archangel spotted Marella waiting for him in the open hangar doorway now and he began to walk toward her.
"Why do you always assume the worst? Believe it or not, Dominic …. I'm not made of stone …. I admire and respect Hawke a great deal …. I like him …. And whether you believe me or not …. I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to him …."
He limped off quickly then, slipping inside the pristine white limousine that was parked on the tarmac, and Marella, after giving Dominic Santini a soft, reassuring smile, slipped in beside him and the car pulled away quietly, leaving Dominic Santini alone with his thoughts.