Storm Season

Part Three

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

Dominic Santini felt like the sound of the various monitors was driving him crazy. The unsynchronized sounds weren't loud, but the fact that they formed a soundtrack to the sight of Stringfellow Hawke unconscious in an intensive care bed rubbed his nerves raw.

Hawke hadn't woken up since Dominic had arrived, two days after the crash. It had taken a panicking Caitlin over twenty-four hours to track him down on San Remo Island, and almost another twenty-four for him to get on a flight back to Los Angeles. By the time he'd gotten to the VA hospital, taking a cab straight from the airport, he was in a fair way to panicking himself. The sight of String hadn't reassured him much. There seemed to be tubes and wires and IV lines stuck into him everywhere, delivering oxygen, infusing drugs and saline and blood, draining fluids and more blood, monitoring his heart and vital signs. The doctor he'd spoken to before even being allowed to see String had talked gravely about a fractured pelvis, broken ribs, a punctured lung, lacerated internal organs, possible spinal damage and a severe concussion. The man hadn't said it in so many words, but he obviously thought the fact that Stringfellow Hawke was still alive was as much as anyone had a right to hope for.

He and Cait took turns watching at the bedside. So far the only apparent change had been the deepening of String's bruising, visible everywhere that wasn't covered in bandages.

Caitlin had called the Oshiros to break the news to Le. Le had wanted Jimmy to bring him to the hospital right away, which both Caitlin and Jimmy had vetoed. Dom was half afraid Le would show up anyway. It wasn't like the kid wasn't resourceful enough to get to the hospital on his own, and he was plenty mature for his age. But this was something he just didn't need to see. Not unless it came time to say goodbye.

Which it wouldn't. Dom kept telling Caitlin that. He wasn't sure either of them believed it.

Now it was late in the evening of the third day. They had finally agreed that one of them should go home, get some rest, and attend to business at the airfield in the morning. Caitlin had gone downstairs to get him a coffee before she left. When the door opened he hardly looked up, figuring it was Cait returning.

Instead, the woman who slipped into the room and quickly closed the door after herself was someone he'd never seen before.

She was Asian, and could have been anywhere in age between thirty and fifty, with shining black hair cut to the collar of her green trenchcoat and an oddly direct gaze. She had an air of quiet but definite authority. "Mr. Santini? My name is Faye."

He didn't think he'd ever seen her before, but all the same there was something slightly familiar about her. She didn't seem to be a nurse or any one of the hospital staff. "Yeah? So?"

She came over to the bedside and looked compassionately down at Hawke for a moment. "I'm very sorry this happened, Mr. Santini."

"Oh yeah? What do you know about it?"

"Nothing more than you do, I assure you. But I worked with Mr. Hawke several years ago, very briefly."

That would explain why she seemed familiar. "Tell me, Faye, you usually wear white?"

She smiled briefly. "I haven't for some time, but an old friend asked for my help. I realize this is not the best time, but my friend asked if I could prevail on you to meet with him. And Miss O'Shannessy too, of course," she added, as Caitlin came in with an extra-large cup of coffee.

"Why doesn't your old friend come and meet us here?" asked Dom, as Caitlin looked from one to the other in surprise.

"He doesn't feel that it would necessarily benefit his health to be seen here. Or yours, to be seen with him. But he asked me to tell you that it is vitally important that he speak with you."

"Oh, no. Not this time. I'm not flying any missions for Archangel, not while String's…" His voice petered out.

"This doesn't have anything to do with a mission. It has to do with St. John."

Dom and Caitlin looked at one another, startled. She'd told him about the ring that supposedly belonged to St. John, and about Hawke wanting to head to Burma. He'd mentally set the matter aside for the time being, not even wanting to think about where all that might lead. How the hell, he wondered, did Archangel know anything about it?

Well, only one way to find out.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Hawke had told Caitlin little about his last visit to Knightsbridge other than that Archangel had been transferred to somewhere in Asia and that his replacement was someone called Jason Locke. The look on Hawke's face clearly conveyed what he'd thought of Archangel's successor.

Caitlin had passed that on to Dom, who had mentally filed it away along with the information about St. John's ring. The Firm already knew that Stringfellow Hawke was out of commission; all they had to do was read the newspaper to find that out. Dom was in no hurry to meet with either Michael Coldsmith Briggs or Jason Locke to discuss Airwolf's future, but he'd been a little surprised that nobody from the Firm had contacted Santini Air yet. This seemed like a strange way to do it. He and Caitlin weren't even getting a ride in a white limo.

Instead, Faye had picked them up in the hospital's underground parking lot in an ordinary sedan, nicer looking than anything Dom or Caitlin drove, but still not luxe. Faye spoke little, and watched a lot. Dominic, sitting next to her in the front seat, didn't miss the frequent glances in the mirrors, the constant monitoring of the road around them that was a little like Hawke's alertness while flying Airwolf. He remembered what she'd said earlier about it not being of benefit to Archangel's health to be seen meeting with them. If the Firm's Deputy Director was having to sneak around to avoid being seen by his own agency, there must be big problems somewhere.

After half an hour's worth of circuitous driving, they arrived at a hotel near the international airport. Faye escorted them to a room on the third floor. This, too, was nowhere near Archangel's normal standards of luxury. But even more surprising was the sight of Michael Coldsmith Briggs himself, sitting in one of the room's two chairs, wearing an ordinary navy blue suit. Aside from the discreetly pinstriped shirt, there wasn't a scrap of white in sight.

He got to his feet as they came in and limped over. "Cait, Dom. It's good to see you." They shook hands, feeling oddly constrained, almost as though they were meeting for the first time. "How's Hawke doing?"

"In ICU. Critical condition." Dom shrugged. "Nobody's really talking."

"They can't tell you what they don't know, Dom," said Archangel gently.

"Yeah, well. What are you doing here, anyway? Why all the hush-hush? We were told you got shipped off to China or someplace."

One corner of Archangel's mouth quirked in a smile. "That's about it. I think somebody – or somebodies – wasn't happy about my continued failure to produce Airwolf, preferably accompanied by Hawke's head on a platter."

"But they can't do that to you!" said Caitlin indignantly. "You're the Deputy Director, for heaven's sake. How can they just send you off to China or Japan like that? With all the years you've worked for them, and everything you know about that job!"

"It's Manila, actually. And the Committee can – and frequently does – do whatever it wants. They weren't getting what they wanted from me."

"They were getting what they wanted," argued Dom. "Just not how they wanted it."

"Perhaps you'd like to advocate in my favour with the Committee," said Archangel drily.

"Not on your life."

"The Firm doesn't know you're back here, do they?" asked Caitlin. "What's so important that you had to come sneaking back like this? I know you and Hawke are friends, but it can't just be because you wanted to find out how he was."

Archangel limped back to the chair and gestured for the others to sit down. "Not exactly. Let me tell you a little bit about Manila. It's an interesting place. You can pick up the oddest bits of intelligence there."

"And you picked up something about St. John?"

Archangel nodded. There was a portable tape recorder on the table next to him. He pressed the play button, and the distorted voice squeaked through the speaker, "String…Firm arranged…the storm season…Blackjack."

"What the hell's that?" demanded Dom.

"Dom, you're probably the only person who can tell us. Do you think that could be St. John's voice?"

"Come on, Michael. How should I know? It could be St. John. It could be anybody. What makes you think it's him?"

Concisely, Archangel told them about the tape arriving mysteriously in Manila, and Marella's subsequent visit to Alexander Montrose in Massachusetts. Dom and Caitlin stared at one another. "You mean this guy actually saw St. John, a year ago?"

"It sounds like it, yes."

"And he was the one that sent that ring to String?"

Archangel leaned forward. "Hawke actually got the ring, then?"

Dom groped in the breast pocket of his shirt and produced the ring with the high school crest. He put it in Archangel's outstretched hand. "String had it in his pocket when he went down," explained Caitlin. "They put it in with his effects."

"Any chance it's genuine?"

"Oh, it's a genuine Van Nuys High ring, all right," said Dom. "And St. John had one. Whether this is his…I can't tell that any more than I could say if that voice was St. John's or not."

"Look inside the band," said Caitlin. "See the numbers somebody scratched there?"

Archangel squinted. "Don't tell me… coordinates?"

"For somewhere in Burma."

"And Hawke thinks he'll find St. John there."

Caitlin nodded.

"It's where St. John was, a year ago," said Dom. "If he's still alive. If it was even him."

"Dominic, I think you're stealing my speech," said Archangel. "I'm usually the one advising Hawke not to go rushing off on the basis of such skimpy evidence."

"Don't you remember what String said, when we opened that coffin that was supposed to have St. John's body inside? 'Fourteen years of looking with no luck, then it comes all at once – no luck at all.' This is just the same. I want to believe it. But I can't."

"It may not be luck at all," said Archangel thoughtfully.

"What are you talking about?"

"This tape. I have no idea how it got to me, but I can't see St. John, if he is still alive, having many opportunities to record a message and get it out. And why send it to the Firm? If he was able to get it out at all, why not send it to you, Dom? He wouldn't know that Hawke had any connection with the Firm. No, I think the tape is just a lure, and it was delivered to my office by mistake. It was meant to go to someone who would make sure Hawke got it. Someone inside the Firm."

"You think someone wanted to trick String into going to Burma?"

"I think that, yes."

"But what for? No, don't tell me. You think this is all about Airwolf, don't you?"

"It usually is," said Archangel mildly. "I did warn Hawke when he brought her back from Libya that he was getting himself into a whole heap of trouble."

"Then what about the ring?" challenged Dom. "If this guy Montrose is telling the truth, then the ring's for real, and St. John's really at that spot. Or was. You can't have it both ways."

"But without the ring," said Caitlin, "String wouldn't have had any idea where to go looking for St. John."

"There's more on the tape. What you heard was the only part that one of the best sound technicians at the Firm could reconstruct. There could be detailed instructions. Or it could just be somebody's shopping list."

"Montrose confirmed Operation Storm Season," Faye pointed out, speaking for the first time. "He also mentioned Bouchard – Blackjack. I find it odd that Bouchard's name didn't show up in the Storm Season file along with Montrose's."

"The Firm isn't above sweeping dirt under the rug, so to speak. It may be that no one wanted the fact that this mission was being led by a freelancer to be kept on record. People might question why the job wasn't given to one of our own people."

"Nevertheless, what he told Marella at least partially confirmed what is on the tape. It sounds to me as if they both must be equally genuine – or equally false."

"What about the crash?" said Caitlin quietly. "Do you think that it maybe wasn't an accident?"

"Have either of you heard anything from the NTSB yet?"

Dominic shook his head.

"My gut feeling," said Archangel slowly, "and keep in mind I could be completely wrong, is that no, it wasn't an accident. Someone wanted Hawke out of the way. Probably the same somebody who was going to make sure the tape got to Hawke, only it wound up at the Firm's office in Manila instead. And because the tape never showed up where it was supposed to, the somebody decided on a more drastic step.

"Montrose may be perfectly genuine, and his sending that ring to Hawke may have just been a fantastic stroke of luck for whoever's setting this trap. Or – " He inclined his head towards Faye. " – he's involved in it as well. After all, we only have his word for the whole story. Whether he is or isn't, I'm quite sure it is a trap."

"But you'd think they'd only go to all this trouble if they didn't know where Airwolf was," said Caitlin, trying to reason this through. "If they just tried to – to kill String, then it would only be because they didn't need him anymore, and they knew he'd try to stop them from taking her."

"Exactly. Someone already knows where she is."

There was a brief silence.

"Of course, the crash could have been an accident," said Faye. "After all, at the time Hawke was landing a storm was moving in. He may have run into a wind shear. It would be wise to wait for the report before we accuse anyone."

"String could have handled that weather," said Dominic firmly.

"In Airwolf," Faye pointed out. "A Long Ranger's a different matter."

"Yet another coincidence," said Archangel. "But you're right, Faye, of course. Although there is one more thing."

Faye lifted an eyebrow.

"I may have been booted out of Knightsbridge in disgrace, but I'm not totally devoid of contacts there. I've been told that Jason Locke has been meeting with a man called Mike Rivers. Helicopter pilot par excellence, probably almost in Hawke's league. Ex-Air Force major, discharged from the military three years ago, has a reputation for being a fixer and arranger."

"A fixer and arranger of what?"

Archangel shrugged. "Whatever you'd like."

"You think he sabotaged String's chopper?" said Dom, his fists clenching.

"I think the probability is fairly high that either he or Locke – or maybe even both – had something to do with it."

"Where do I find this Rivers?"

"Dominic Santini, don't you even think of trying to find this Rivers person!" snapped Caitlin. As everyone stared at her, she rushed on, "We've already got enough problems here. The important thing is, if Rivers and Locke are really looking for Airwolf, and they haven't found her yet, is String still in danger?"

"He's in hospital in critical condition. He's no danger to anyone at the moment," said Archangel. "What worries me more right now is, are the two of you in danger? Hawke's not the only one who knows where Airwolf is, or how to fly her."

"It would start looking pretty suspicious if both Cait and I had accidents too," said Dom.

Archangel sighed. "The storm system that's been hanging over most over of the southern half of the state is supposed to start dissipating around midday tomorrow. If nobody's found and moved Airwolf by this time, they'll probably wait till the weather clears. Dominic, I know that neither you nor Cait want to leave Hawke, but I'd sleep a whole lot better tonight if I knew that one of you had gotten Airwolf to a safe location."

"I'm not going all the way out to – to where the Lady is, tonight, just so you can have sweet dreams, Michael," growled Dom.

"Well, I will, then," said Caitlin.

Dom turned to stare at her, drop-jawed. "Cait, are you crazy? It's a long drive, the weather's still bad, and we don't know for sure that anything's wrong anyway!"

"And if it is, and we lose the Lady, do you want to explain that to String when he wakes up?" Caitlin fired back.

She had a point. "Well – well, where would we put her, anyway? There's not so many places around where you can just fly something that looks like Airwolf and tuck her away without anybody noticing!"

Archangel said, almost diffidently, "Actually, I know of a place that would probably work, at least in the short term."

"Oh yeah? Your garage?"

"Something like that. I've got a couple hundred acres about fifty miles north of here. There's nothing on the property but an old ranch house and there are no near neighbours. It's mostly pasture, but there are a few wooded areas where it would be easy enough to hide a helicopter for a few days."

"An old ranch?" said Caitlin, smiling a bit at this revelation. "I don't see you as a farming type, somehow."

"I was planning to fix it up and keep polo ponies there after I retire." He shrugged. "At the rate things are going, that time may come sooner rather than later."

"You're real good at complicated plots, Michael," said Dom, deeply suspicious of the offer, in fact of everything that they'd discussed, and not in the mood for dealing with mysterious rings and tapes. "How do I know this isn't just another setup to get Airwolf for the Firm?"

"Oh, I see. I'm supposed to have sent the ring and faked this tape, am I? And did I also rig Hawke's chopper to crash?"

"Stop it, both of you!" said Caitlin. Suddenly, between emotion and exhaustion, she felt almost ready to cry. "Dom, you know you don't mean that. Somebody out there may want String dead, or out of the way, but it's not Michael. And we've got to move Airwolf, and we've got to do it now, and better the devil you know than the one you don't."

"Thank you for the compliment, Cait," said Archangel drily. "Besides, it would only be for a few days."

"And then what?"

"Then…then, maybe we should think about a little trip to Burma."

Dominic nearly choked. "Burma? Oh, no. What the hell would we do that for? Didn't you say you thought it was a trap? And if you think I'm going to take Airwolf and fly off to someplace like that while String's so bad, you're crazy! And if you think we're gonna park her in your backyard just so you can take off in her as soon as my back's turned, you can think again! I'd just as soon leave her right where she is!"

"Mr. Santini," said Faye gently, "I know that you and Miss O'Shannessy have been going through hell the last two days. But if the worst happens, do you want to be left knowing that you've lost not only Hawke but Airwolf, and the last chance to bring St. John home?"

Dom glared daggers at her. "That's called emotional blackmail."

"I'm sorry. That is not my intention."

"I'll just bet it's not!"

"Dom, please, can we just move Airwolf for now, and worry about Burma later?" pleaded Caitlin.

Dom huffed. "Okay, we'll move Airwolf. But as far as any cockeyed idea of a trip to Burma goes, there ain't gonna be no later. And that's final."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

The next morning he was back at the hospital. He and Caitlin had moved Airwolf out of the lair and flown her to Archangel's ranch. Aside from thunderstorms and gusty winds, the flight had been uneventful. Caitlin had stayed to keep an eye on her – abandoning the plan to go back to Van Nuys – and Faye had arrived shortly afterwards, to help keep watch, she'd said. She'd brought groceries and housekeeping supplies for several days.

Dominic had gotten a couple of hours' sleep and then headed back for the city. He felt every year of his age.

He spoke briefly to one of the doctors, who told him regretfully that there was no change in Hawke's condition. He went into Hawke's room and sat down heavily by the bedside. Back to that goddamned beeping noise, he thought. He tried to tell himself that the doctor was wrong, and String looked just a little bit better than yesterday.

"String?" he said, his voice hoarse with weariness. "It's me, Dom. I hope you can hear me. Don't you worry, I'm going to stay here till you come out of this. I lost Sally Ann, and I lost St. John. I'm not going to let you go, too."

Hawke's breathing seemed to change and deepen. His right hand twitched, then the fingers curled, with no more strength in the movement than a newborn kitten pawing. Dominic sat bolt upright, exhaustion temporarily forgotten. He started to grab hold of the hand, then slowed down and just took it gently between both his own, instead. "String!"

"Dom?" The voice wasn't even a whisper, just a stirring of breath.

"That's right, kid. You're in the hospital. Your chopper crashed. You busted a whole lot of stuff, but you're gonna be fine. Don't worry. Everything's gonna be fine."

"Dom…"

"Yeah, String. I'm right here." The pawing motion continued. Dom took a firmer grip on his hand.

Hawke's own situation didn't seem to be what was disturbing him. His voice gained a little strength. "St. John – if St. John is alive, please… please take Airwolf and find him… please…"

The voice faded. The hand stopped moving.

Dom sat in shocked silence for a moment. Feeling tears prickling in his eyes, he took a deep breath and said, "Sure I will, String. We'll find him. Don't you worry."

As if it could be that simple.