Chapter Four.
Tuesday 17th July, 1984.
Russia – somewhere on the Central Siberian Plateau.
7.30am.
"How's he doing?" Mischa Ivanov asked with concern etched into his face, as Yana Petrova carefully jumped down off the tailgate on the back of the truck.
She looked dreadful, face pale, smoky grey eyes wide, fine lines etched into the flesh around them and smudges of blue, almost like bruises, beneath.
It had been a dreadful couple of days for her and her patient, the sudden deterioration in Stringfellow Hawke's condition causing both Yana and Mischa considerable concern.
He had slept peacefully for while, but as Yana had predicted, the symptoms of withdrawal had begun to manifest themselves, and he had quickly sunk into delirium, thrashing about in the narrow bunk and shouting out different names, lashing out at Yana when she had tried to soothe him, and fending her off when she tried to make him comfortable or to take his observations.
He had developed a fever soon after, which had spiked twelve hours later, not soon enough for Yana Petrova who had watched his temperature climb up through the roof and his over heated body convulse again and again ….
At one point, she had been terrified that she had lost him.
After one particularly nasty seizure, his body had grown rigid and then collapsed against the bunk, perfectly still. When she had checked his vital signs, she had not been able to find a pulse and had immediately set about performing mouth to mouth resuscitation, inflating his lungs carefully and forcing air into and out of his lungs with chest compressions, until at last she had detected a very weak pulse and saw with relief his chest begin to move slowly up and down as he inhaled.
Shaken and on the point of tears, Yana Petrova knew that his body would not be able to take another seizure like that one. Already weakened by the awful conditions in which he had been forced to survive, and the treatments, the strain on his heart would simply be too much.
Soon after his fever broke, the nightmares returned, and with them, a super human strength that had seen him violently thrashing around in the bunk once more.
By this time, Yana had persuaded Mischa that they had to stop, go to ground somewhere quite for a while, and allow the nightmares and the hallucinations that were plaguing him to run their course. Hawke was irrational and unreasonable and simply refused to allow her to offer him comfort or to try to soothe him, when he awoke screaming and sobbing, and seemed not to recognise her as the paranoia took him over.
The sedative she administered seemed not to have any effect at all.
All they could do was wait it out.
His distress became so unbearable that all Yana could do was take him in her arms, cradling him lovingly against her warm body as he shivered and shook and thrashed about wildly and sobbed uncontrollably hour after hour, until finally he had no strength left to do anything but sleep.
Mischa had found a quiet spot off road, in a densely wooded area, and they had stayed there for the last two nights, until the crisis had passed.
It had all come to a head when Hawke had launched himself at Yana, strong hands around her throat, as he accused her of all manner of horrendous things. It had taken all of Mischa's strength to haul him off her, and he had been forced to belt Hawke around the jaw to subdue him ….
More bruises to his poor face ….
After wrestling him into submission,Mischa had handcuffed Hawke to the side of the truck, and sat with him until he had calmed down, then during one of his more calm and lucid moments, Mischa had explained to him in reasonable tones, sitting calmly with his handgun resting casually in his lap, in plain sight, so that Hawke could not fail to see and understand it's implications, that they were trying to help him, not trick him, and that it would soon be over and he would be in the loving arms of his family back in the States ….
So long as he behaved himself and kept his hands to himself ….
After that, Hawke had slept, but then his physical condition became a concern to Yana again, as she became aware that he was in considerable pain, stomach cramps that made him double over and robbed him of breath and she also noted that his vital signs were all over the place, heart racing and blood pressure climbing, only to fall rapidly as his heart beat became irregular and fluctuated alarmingly.
This had continued for another twelve hours until at last he had fallen into a fitful sleep, just as dawn had broken and Yana had watched over him, holding his hand and gently pushing his damp, sleep tousled hair from his forehead, until his breathing became deep and more even, succumbing finally to a more peaceful slumber.
It was the beginning of the seventh day of their journey and they still had some way to go before reaching the rendezvous co-ordinates.
"He's sleeping …. At last." Yana smiled wanly at Mischa, as she walked slowly over to the small fire he had made to heat water for tea and helped herself to a cup of black tea from the pot sitting in the embers of the fire.
They had both slept in the truck at night, Yana close to her patient and Mischa in the cramped, uncomfortable cab of the truck, both wrapped in inadequate blankets, neither really getting any sleep, just dozing, alert to the slightest sound from both inside the truck and out.
"Do you think the worst is over now?" He asked and watched her sip gratefully at the bitter tea.
"I hope so …. I don't know about him, but I don't think I can take much more …." She confided.
She had never felt so tired in her life ….
Or quite so helpless, as she did right now.
All of her skills as a physician had been tested to their very limits, and she still wasn't sure that he wouldn't take another turn for the worse ….
She had never witnessed anything like it before ….
And she found herself praying that she would never have to be in a position where she would have to witness anything like it again.
The pain he had experienced had been awful.
Agonising and relentless ….
The deliriums exhausting and emotionally draining.
Nothing she could do for him except to hold him, hold his hand, speak soothingly to him, trying to reassure him that everything would be all right ….
That he was not alone ….
That it would soon be over and he would suffer no more ….
"At least he's quiet …. For the time being." She took another sip of her tea. "We should be moving on, Mischa …. The longer we stay still, the more chance a random patrol will come along." He nodded in agreement, his expression still one of concern, but for Yana now.
She looked dead beat and emotionally wrung out and his natural instinct was to go to her and gather her into his arms ….
"You should try to get some sleep, Yana …." He coaxed.
"Later …."
"You look all in …."
"I am …."She smiled wryly then. "But if he wakes up …."
"If he wakes up, I'll see to him …. And if he gets rowdy again, I'll punch his lights out …." Mischa grinned.
"Gee …. My hero!" Yana rolled her eyes heavenward then in amusement. "I think this fellow might respond a little more positively to some TLC …. He's had more than his fair share of the rough stuff lately …."
She noted the clouding of his expression then and sighed softly as she hastily added.
"Not that I am saying that what you did wasn't necessary …. That I'm not grateful, Mischa …. I couldn't have handled him …. He was way too strong for me …."
"There's food …. If you are hungry." He changed the subject then and Yana was grateful.
"Oatmeal again?" He nodded and was unable to suppress a smile when she pulled a face.
"I think I'd rather eat my own foot than that awful stuff again …." She grumbled, but bent down to lift the lid on the cooking pot perched over the fire, poking the contents with a large metal spoon. It was pale, thick and glutinous, and she knew that it would taste akin to wallpaper paste, but there was nothing else on offer …. And there was one consolation …. They had plenty of sugar and honey in the bags of supplies, which she could use to disguise the taste.
"With or without your shoes and stockings?" He quipped, crossing to where she stood with a metal bowl in his hand.
"Funny …." She grinned, slapping a dollop of the oatmeal into the centre of the bowl he was holding out to her now. "I don't suppose there's any milk left?"
"Now who's the comedian?" He grinned, then watched as she sprinkled four spoonfuls of sugar onto the oatmeal and thinned it down with a splash of black tea before taking a mouthful tentatively, and grimacing at the taste of it.
"I'll eat this, and then I'll help you break camp …. Did you send a report to Control?"
"Sure did …. Told them as much as I could about his condition …. About why we had stopped …. I gave them an estimated time of arrival at the rendezvous, but I'm not sure we'll make it."
"Then we shouldn't waste anymore time sitting here chewing the fat …." She crammed more food into her mouth hastily and Mischa could not help smiling at her.
"Hey, take it easy …. I really don't think five more minutes is going to make that much difference in the grand scheme of things …. Careful …." He warned as she began to cough. "My Heimlich manoeuvre is a bit rusty …." He chuckled.
"When did you say we would be at the pick up point?" Yana asked when she had finished coughing and had swallowed the remainder of her breakfast without further incident.
"It's Tuesday today …. I told them we should be there by midnight Friday, latest …."
"Then we'd better make sure that we are, hadn't we."
"It will mean no more stops …."
"We'll manage." She reassured. "How are we for supplies? Gas?"
While she had been tending to Hawke, Mischa had gone on a reconnaissance mission, finding the small local settlements in the area and he had walked to the nearest villages and purchased dried goods, tea and bread, things that were easily carried and would not draw attention to himself, and had then hurried back to their hideout, not wanting to leave Yana alone and defenceless for too long.
"We're ok for food …. For a little longer, especially as our guest back there has such a poor appetite …. But we're low on water …. And Gas could be a problem …. We should make it to the pick up point, but we'll probably be on fumes by the time we get there …."
"So I guess that leaves you and me walking to the bus station …." Yana quipped.
She had been disappointed to learn from Mischa, after his first report to Control, that they would not be liberated with their compatriot ….
No room for them in the transport that they were sending to collect him ….
She and Mischa were to lay low and await new orders ….
Or the arrival of a transport of their own out of Russia.
New orders, Yana knew, would probably have them going their separate ways ….
For their safety more than anything else.
If they stayed together they could be endangering each other ….
And arrangements for another transport to get them out could take days to set up.
Mischa would probably end up making his way to Magadan where it would be easy for him to blend in, look for work in one of the mines ….
She, on the other hand, would find it much harder to find work …. She might even have to travel as far south as Khabarovsk or Vladivostok …. Which would mean more opportunities for her to be discovered ….
The look on Mischa's face told her that he too had worked out what they might have to do and he didn't look happy about it.
"That's ok ….. I could use the exercise …." She shrugged and smiled then, wanting to reassure him that whatever they had to do to survive would be alright with her.
"I won't leave you, Yana …. We're in this together."
"Even to the point of dying together?" She chided.
"If necessary." He told her bluntly moving toward her now and taking her in his arms. "I love you …. Wither thou goest, I goest …. Ok." He clamped his lips down firmly on her's, surprising Yana Petrova with the fierce passion of his kiss, heat and colour blooming in her cheeks as he finally drew away from her.
"Oh my …" She gasped when he drew his lips away from hers at long last, but for once, she was completely lost for words.
"I mean it, Yana …." He told her emphatically and the look on his face tore at her heart.
"I know you do, love …." She reached out with slightly shaking fingers and caressed his stubble covered chin now. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that …. Dying together, I mean …." She smiled lovingly up at him then. "Oh, and by the way, for the record, Mischa Ivanov, I love you too …." She grinned wickedly then when she saw the surprise register in his eyes. "When all this is over, and we are some place safe …. Kiss me like that again …."
"I promise …." He grinned back then, his eyes raking hungrily over her face, body.
"Enough already!" She punched him playfully in the shoulder then. "Plenty of time for that later …. Come on then, let's get moving …. We still have a lot of ground to cover, and people relying on us to keep to a deadline …."
Wednesday 18th July, 1984.
Elmendorf Air Base, Anchorage, Alaska.
Noon.
Dominic Santini sat impatiently inside Airwolf's cockpit, sighing heavily as he waited for the planned communication with Archangel.
He and Alex Beecham had been twiddling their thumbs here in Alaska, for almost a week, waiting for the go ahead to begin their mission. Airwolf stowed away in the back of a darkened hangar away from the prying eyes of foreign spy satellites and curious Airmen, and with Alex and Dominic sharing guard duty, each spending alternate nights sleeping in the cockpit and their days thoroughly checking each system for any glitches and keeping her oiled and primed and clean ….
So much so, that a weary Dominic had joked that any missile that got near them would just slide off the hull because it was so highly polished.
Dominic was beginning to get worried about Alexandra Beecham. She seemed to be looking frailer and paler as each day passed, although she passed it off as just being tired and worried over String.
He could empathize with her.
He was tired and grouchy and anxious to be doing something other than maintenance and watching her tinker with the computer software, telling him that the new lines of code that she was entering would be helpful if they needed to get out of Indian country fast ….
A routine upgrade, she assured him and Dominic had nodded silently, thinking that where they were going, any little thing that she could do to tweak the Lady's performance would be more than welcome.
No news, in this particular case, was definitely not good news ….
Archangel's prediction that they may not hear much from Gypsy and Minstrel had proved correct, and they were no closer to knowing the true identity of the man they were going to bring out of Russia ….
And both had grudgingly had to accept that it might not be Stringfellow Hawke after all ….
And that they could quickly be back at square one ….
No closer to answers about what had become of the man that they both loved.
As the week progressed and it became harder and harder to find something to do to fill their time, they were both getting impatient and testy, even with each other, and were tired of the curious looks aimed at them from the base personnel who were curious to know why they were there.
Alex sat in the engineering cabin right now, silent and staring absently at illuminated instrument panels, catching up on long range weather forecasts and waiting for Archangel to radio in.
Dominic had tried to engage her in conversation, but she had merely smiled tiredly at him and told him that once this was all over, and he had her undivided attention, she would answer all his questions.
Dominic had experienced a moment of anguish as he had looked at her, really looked at her for the first time in days. Her face was so pale it was almost white, and there was now more than just a hint of pain in her tired, red rimmed eyes ….
She had barely eaten a thing since they had arrived, despite the fact that for the military, the food wasn't half bad here at Elmendorf, and the fine lines around her eyes were testament to the fact that she was sleeping badly too.
He found himself praying that once this was over, and she and Hawke had spent a few weeks up at the cabin, with all that fresh air and good food, and loving they had to catch up on, he would see the roses return to her cheeks and contentment and love replace the worry and the fear and the pain in her lovely dark brown eyes.
"Knightsbridge to Airwolf …. Come in, Dominic."
"I'm here." Santini snarled into the microphone in his helmet.
"So I hear …." Archangel sighed softly.
"What ya got for us?" Santini demanded. "What's taking so long?"
"Dominic, we knew from the getgo that this could take some time …. The terrain is not conducive to easy travelling and they are having to stay away from main roads because they don't want to rouse suspicion …." Archangel reminded, but Santini knew that he was only blowing smoke.
"Just tell us, Michael …." Dominic sighed again.
"We had word …. Just a little while ago …. They had to hole up for a while, because their companion's condition deteriorated." Santini winced as he noted the deliberate way Archangel did not refer to the man by name.
"Is he ok, Michael?" This, from Alex Beecham now, her tone weary and edged with concern.
"Yes. They had to lay low for a couple of days, but he seems to be over the worst of it now. At least they are back on the road and heading for the pre-arranged co-ordinates."
"Do we have an ETA?" Santini demanded.
"Friday …. Midnight, local time. That's approximately 4am your time." Archangel advised.
"Good …. At last." The relief in Santini's voice was obvious. "It's approximately four hours flying time, but maybe with a tail wind this baby will get us there a little quicker …. Which means we will have to leave here at …."
"Midnight, Thursday evening …." Alex interjected for him.
"Thanks …."
"You all set?" This from Archangel now.
"Do you have to ask? We've been ready and chomping on the bit for almost a week, Michael …."
"Ok. Do you need anything else?"
"A direct line to the big man upstairs wouldn't go amiss right now …." Santini quipped, relieved that he would soon be able to go in to action. "Failing that, the biggest steak dinner for two you can come up with when we get back."
"I'm not sure about your first request, but the second one …. It's a done deal, Dominic …. I'll go rope a steer myself and make sure they cook it to perfection. How do you prefer your steak, Alex."
"Medium rare."
"Me too …. And make sure it's not too tough …."
"Your wish is my command, Dominic …. I'll speak to you again before you leave …."
"Sure thing, Michael …."
"Archangel out."
Chapter Seventeen.
Friday 20th July, 1984.
The Russian Far East, near Magadan.
10.30am
Stringfellow Hawke opened his eyes and let out a soft sigh as his eyes focused and his gaze settled on the concerned face of the redheaded doctor, Yana Petrova. He tried to lift his right hand to rub at his aching forehead, only to find it handcuffed to the metal strut on the side of the bench and he returned his gaze to the red head, glowering at her now.
"Hi there."
"Is this how you treat all your patients?" Hawke growled in a rough voice, waving his handcuffed hand in the air as high as it would go.
"Only the ones who try to choke me." She chided, and then smiled softly at him.
His colour was much better today. His pulse and respiration were steady and within normal ranges and his temperature was down. He still looked like death warmed over, but his attitude told Yana Petrova better than any chart, that he was feeling better.
Hawke had the good grace to look slightly ashamed as he took in what she said, vaguely recalling now, the big bear of a man with the gun on his lap warning him to keep his hands to himself, if he wanted to get home in one piece.
So, it hadn't just been another dream.
He let out a soft sigh, his gaze softening now.
"So, how am I?"
"How do you feel?"
"Weak as a new born …." He sighed deeply again then, and made a sour face. "Like every bone in my body is broken …."
"They're not." She assured him with a soft smile. "But I'll find you something for the pain in a minute."
"And I feel like my brain is in a kind of fog …. Having trouble thinking clearly …. Still not sure what is real and what I dreamed."
"That's only to be expected. You have to give yourself time. The drug, GKP, is potent stuff, it's meant to affect the brain, String, because it is a mind controlling drug. I think the crisis is past, but you are still going to feel a little …. weird …. for a few days until it's completely out of your system." She explained with a serious expression then.
"Weird, huh …." He gave her a lopsided grin. "That a new medical diagnosis, doc?"
"You're really very lucky …. It could have been much worse." She smiled tiredly back at him and patted his hand gently.
"Gee thanks …. Although at this moment I can't imagine how …." He groaned expressively.
"Anything else?" She prompted.
"Yeah …. My tongue is sticking to the roof of my mouth …. Any chance of getting a cup of coffee around here …. And oh yeah …. I think I'm hungry." He told her with some surprise, feeling the gnawing emptiness in the pit of his stomach.
"Well that's a good sign." She grinned back at him. "I'm afraid we have rather a limited menu …. No coffee, but you are more than welcome to a couple of mouthfuls of water …. And a few crackers with some honey, to begin with. You need to get your blood sugar back up a bit, and that should help to make you feel a bit better, and then when we stop, you can have a little oatmeal."
"Right now, even that sounds good …."
"Good, I'll get the key to those handcuffs from Mischa in a minute …. If you promise not to get rowdy again."
"Who me? I don't have the strength …." He confided. "My arms and legs feel like rubber."
"That will pass, after you've had something to eat."
"Just don't give me anything with meat in it …."
"You'll be lucky, we've been living on oatmeal, vegetables and rice for almost a week. Why?" She gave him a curious look then.
"I'm allergic. Makes me sick as the proverbial dog …."
"Ah …."
"Yeah …. They gave me something back there that really didn't agree with my system …. I'd rather not go through that again, if it's all the same to you."
"Ok, you have my word. No meat."
"How soon before we get to wherever it is we're going?"
"Well, we had to stop for a couple of days, because you were not very well …." She did not volunteer any more information, but the look on her face told him that it had not been pleasant, for either of them, and he was suddenly glad that he had no memory of what had occurred in the past few days.
"Which has delayed us, a little …. Also, the roadway isn't brilliant, barely paved, so we had to slow down a little …. To save the suspension …. But, Mischa seems to think that we will make our deadline and be at the rendezvous by midnight tonight. About fourteen hours from now." She reached out and patted his hand gently now. "Plenty of time for you to get some more rest."
"Hey …. I'm sorry …. About before …."
"Forget it." She told him softly. "We both know you weren't responsible for your actions. I know you're not really that kind of guy." She chuckled.
"Why are you doing this? Helping me?"
"You mean aside from the fact that it is our job …. that we were sent here to find out what the hell our Red friends were up to?" He nodded.
"You weren't sent here specifically to rescue me, were you?"
"Look, Mr Hawke, I don't think anyone had any idea what the hell our mission would turn out to be in the beginning …." She grinned. "They rarely do …. We have had to learn to just go with the flow …. But, when we sent in our report to Control, they seemed very pleased that we had found something important that they had thought that they had lost .… So …. Here we are."
"Well …. Thanks."
"You're welcome."
"You took a terrible risk …."
"That's what this job is all about …. Taking risks …. Some are more worthy than others …. I happen to think that you are worth the risk, String …. There was just something so compelling about the way you were fighting to stay alive …. I guess I admired your guts."
"Thanks …."
"You never know, one of these days, you may be able to do the same for Mischa and I …."
She busied herself then with pouring out a small measure of water for him to sip at and then pulled out dry crackers and a small jar of thick golden honey for him to dip the crackers into, then after retrieving the key to the handcuffs from Mischa, Yana released him so that he could sit up a little in the make shift bunk.
She watched him nibble cautiously on a cracker and tried to hide a smile then reached out for a cracker for herself, dipped it into the honey and popped it into her mouth with relish.
"It's not poisoned. See." She grinned at him and saw the look of relief in his eyes. Obviously he still wasn't completely sure that he could trust his rescuers.
"Who's Alex?" Yana asked, rising from her perch beside his bunk to check on the bags of IV fluids hanging over his bedside.
When he did not answer, Yana glanced down at him and frowned.
"You were delirious for some time, and calling out for different people. Someone called Dominic, someone else called Sinjin?" she frowned at the strange pronunciation of the name and he nodded.
"Dominic is my dearest friend …. My …. Father, I guess …." The look on his face told her that he had rarely admitted his true feelings for the man to another soul …. Perhaps even to himself and she smiled softly at him. "Sinjin …. Spelt Saint John, is my brother."
"And Alex? You got very upset when you called out his name."
"Her. Alex is a girl …. My bird …." He smiled mysteriously then and she frowned down at him, her head tilted curiously to one side as she regarded him with smoky grey eyes.
"The woman I love and plan to marry when all this is over." He told her candidly and she smiled then. "She's the reason I fought so hard to stay alive …. To not give into this …." Yana nodded in understanding.
Love was a very powerful emotion ….
And, in his case, strong enough to keep him alive.
"You will see her again, very soon."
"I hope so …." He pushed the jar of honey and the packet of crackers away then and she frowned down at him.
"Done?" He nodded, and she could see how tired he looked now, fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open any longer. "Get some rest. I'll wake you when your ride gets here." She smiled softly at him.
"Thank you." He managed as his eyes fluttered closed once more and soon his breathing was slow and steady and even as he slept once more.
Dominic Santini (Ernest Borgnine) piloting Airwolf
Friday 20 July, 1984.
Elmendorf Air Base, Anchorage, Alaska.
11.55pm
"Elmendorf Tower to Alpha Whisky Zero One …."
Dominic Santini heard the call from the Air Traffic Control Tower echo in his helmet and just for a moment did not register that the airman in the tower was addressing him, so deep in concentration was he.
"Hey, Dom, I think he's talking to you …." Alex prompted from the rear cabin, a chuckle in her voice.
"Huh?"
"The tower …."
"Oh yeah …. Well it ain't the Avon Lady …." He chuckled back. "I hear 'em …. Must have zoned out there for a minute …."
"Alpha Whisky Zero One, do you read, Sir?"
"Keep your underwear on son …." He muttered under his breath, as he drew in a deep breath in readiness, feeling the familiar clenching of his stomach muscles that always accompanied the rush of adrenalin he felt before setting off on any mission.
"Affirmative, Alpha Whisky Zero One, I read you loud and clear, strength ten." He responded.
"Thank you Sir …. You are cleared for take off …. No inward bound or outward bound traffic for twenty miles, as requested Sir …."
"Affirmative."
"Weather is clear for thirty miles, possible storm clouds to the North beyond that …. Have a safe trip and …. Good luck Sir …."
"Thanks son …. Alpha Whisky Zero One out …."
Dominic gently eased Airwolf out of the hangar, eyes darting from one instrument panel to another as he nosed her out on to the patch of concrete beyond the hangar doors.
"Hey, you awake back there?"
"I sure am." He heard the grin in Alex Beecham's voice now and was reassured. "I got me a hot date tonight, Dominic, so step on it and don't spare the horses! My heart's doing about 90 knots and my palms are wringing wet …."
"Ah, love …. It'll do it to you every time." He chuckled.
They were both feeling much more alert and positive after their last brief communiqué with Archangel, who had immediately informed them that Gypsy and Minstrel had finally been able to verify their travelling companion's identity, and that it was indeed Stringfellow Hawke. They had also confirmed that he seemed to be much better, physically, if a little weak, and that they were on schedule to reach the rendezvous as arranged.
The remainder of the conversation had been routine confirmation of arrangements, the co-ordinates and rendezvous times for the refuelling of Airwolf on the return leg of the journey to the States, and check in times for reports on their progress.
And finally, and regretfully, Archangel had reiterated the Committees order that they do not engage the enemy ….
At least not until they were clear of Russian airspace ….
"Ok, fasten your seat belt honey …. Here we go …."
"Not a minute too bloody soon either …."
"Amen to that …."
Airwolf gracefully rose from the concrete and climbed effortlessly to twenty thousand feet, with Alex Beecham monitoring weather and communication channels and calling out their altitude to Dominic as they rose up through the low cloud cover.
Once they had cleared the coast, Dominic took Airwolf down below ground radar and again Alex confirmed that the scopes were all clear.
Three hours later, and settled into the routine of the flight, Dominic, used to the banter that flew between himself and Stringfellow Hawke whenever they were on a mission, was feeling a little uncomfortable with the silence from the engineering cabin, and with his own thoughts, which kept drifting back to the last time he and Hawke had taken a trip into Russian territory without armaments.
Even String had been uneasy on that mission.
They had had to stay on the deck all the way there and back again ….
And when Hawke had told him that he planned to take her down to fifty feet give or take a few feet, Santini had joked back that it wasn't the fifty feet that bothered him so much as the give or take a few ….
Now, he was going to have to try to emulate that magnificent feat of low level flying at high speed himself, using the helmet view of the SLAS, Starlight Amplification System. It was an amazing piece of technology, but even though they had taken Airwolf up in the early hours of a crystal clear Alaskan morning a couple of days ago, just so that he could try it out, he still wasn't as confident as he felt he should be.
It was also one of the systems that Alexandra had tweaked …. Increasing the resolution of the picture projected onto the inside of his visor and giving him better definition of the terrain ….
Almost like daylight ….
Almost, but not quite ….
Dominic Santini still had his reservations.
He wasn't Stringfellow Hawke.
He didn't have Hawke's intuition …. His affinity with the machine …. Or his instincts.
"Hey, Dominic, you ok up there?" Alex Beecham's concerned voice suddenly filled his helmet.
"Sure, sure ….
"You're awfully quiet …."
"You too …." He shot back. "Just thinking about String …." He added softly.
"Me too."
"You won't have long to wait now, honey …." He found himself grinning. "You never did tell me how the two of you actually met …."
"Well you see Dominic, that's top secret …."
"Ah c'mon …."
"Ok …." She sighed softly. "You may not know it …. I don't know how much, if anything String has told you …." She paused for a moment.
"A whole heap of nothing, honey, that's what String's told me …." Santini informed her and Alex found that she wasn't surprised.
He was such a closed book, that Stringfellow Hawke.
Intensely private.
It wasn't such a bad thing …. But it did make it difficult to get to the heart of what was on his mind …. When something was bothering him.
"Well …." She let out a wistful sigh now, before continuing. "I was a completely different person back then …. Different name …." She hesitated then, something strange about her tone of voice and Santini frowned, however, before he could question her further, the smile was back in her voice as she continued to speak.
"String and I met working on this baby …. I was part of the team of eggheads responsible for the computer software …. Designing it, writing it, making sure it worked …. And then teaching the test pilots on the programme how to talk to her properly, and putting them through their paces in the simulator. String was by far the best student …."
He could hear the grin in her voice then, and Santini suddenly recalled Hawke's comment to him a little while back about having a good teacher ….
He understood now ….
Hawke had been talking about Alex.
"String didn't resent me, no matter how many times I tried to kill him in the simulator …. He took it as a challenge." She chuckled. "Some of the other test pilots would get all up tight and bent out of shape, about this geeky kid outwitting them and sending them to hell in a fireball every time they stepped into the simulator, but not String. He didn't take it personally. He used it as a way to hone his skills as a pilot, recognising the hand of another experienced pilot in the way the scenarios were built. If he failed in the simulator he would come back next time, having thought it out, and then he would succeed …. If I hadn't altered the programme in the meantime, that is …. If he failed again, he would put his pride and his ego aside and come and ask me how I would have handled it …. I never did tell him." Alex was grinning broadly now, lost in the memories of falling in love for the very first time.
"I guess that's how you know Michael …. Archangel, huh? But how did you get involved in the first place?"
"Dr Charles Moffett …."
Dominic felt a shiver run down his spine, and not just at the mention of the name ….
But because there was something so cold, so hard, and so dead in her tone of voice.
"Charles Moffett. He was my Godfather …. He was a controlling, manipulative, jealous old man and he thought that I was his property …. I was very young, very naïve and inexperienced in many ways …. I trusted him …. My parents entrusted my welfare to him because he was a very old friend and they trusted him too. I didn't know anyone else on the team, so I had to rely on him to support me and help me and guide me ….To take care of me …." She let out a shuddering breath then.
"Oh Dominic, I was still such a child back then, and I felt honoured and privileged to be working on such a marvellous project as this magnificent machine." Dominic Santini did not doubt it, for he could hear the pride in her voice now, and he could still remember the way that she had reacted when she had first set eyes on Airwolf.
"I was very much a loner …. I was what they called 'a bright child' …. A protégé, and that intimidated and alienated the other kids at school. So I was always cushioned and protected by my parents …. Cocooned …. Lonely …. Shy and awkward, and lacking in all the necessary social skills …. And I guess Charles put the word out that I was out of bounds, to make sure that he had control over me and my movements …. Which meant that none of the other scientists tried very hard to befriend me. They were pleasant, sociable, but not overly friendly, and they all valued their jobs too much. Yet, despite that, I found a friend …."
There was suddenly a catch in her voice and Dominic Santini could feel the strength of the emotion that she must have felt at being offered the simple warmth of unconditional friendship, from a man as reserved and haunted and damaged emotionally as his young friend Hawke.
"I found Stringfellow Hawke …. a man I understood …. I still don't know how or why, I just did …. And he understood me too …. When we were together, everything made sense. We made each other laugh …." She paused for a moment then, but Dominic did not disturb her reverie.
"String tried to teach me to dance, not this energetic disco dancing stuff that's so popular these days, but the slow, romantic, close together, cheek to cheek kind of dancing …. But, somehow we just kept getting tangled up in each other's feet …. And then we tried ten pin bowling …. And I ended up half way down the lane with the bowling ball still in my hand …. And String was laughing so hard he almost wet his pants …." She laughed softly then, and Santini struggled to picture the image of Stringfellow Hawke laughing that hard at anything.
"He was laughing so hard it was infectious, and all I could do was laugh too …. We were like a couple of teenagers and at one point, I was worried that the manager was gonna have us tossed out on our collective asses!"
"So that's why he don't play …." Santini chortled, still unable to get his head around the Stringfellow Hawke he knew and loved acting like a silly kid ….
Hawke had never acted that way, even when he had been a teenager.
Maybe when he had been a lot younger and carefree …. The feisty little guy who had so much to prove because he was so much smaller and weaker than his brother, St John …. Sickly ….
Then ….
After his parents had died, String had always been serious, always introverted, rarely smiling or laughing out loud, just giving him the 'eye' whenever he tried to joke around with him ….
To this day, Hawke was still that way ….
Or had been, until recently ….
Until she had come back into his life ….
His soul mate ….
So it was difficult for Santini to imagine him letting his guard down with this young woman …. Even for a moment.
He was glad that String had found someone at last ….
Someone, that he could be completely open and natural with.
It was a slow process, but she had already proved to be the best kind of therapy that Hawke could have found.
"We had fun together …. I know you probably find that hard to believe …." She chuckled again. "But he does know how …. When he lets himself relax …. He can be very charming and endearing …. Very loving, affectionate, understanding and compassionate …. But he can also be very dark and hard to read …. When he pulls back inside himself …. When he tries to shut out the world …. We had our serious moments too …. You know String and how …. Withdrawn and closed he is sometimes …. How up tight and silent he can get …."
Ah honey, you know him so well already ….
"Yeah, I know …. Tell me about it …."
"But it helped that we could talk, really talk …. We could tell each other anything. He would really open up to me …. And I felt able to ask him anything, tell him anything …. When we were together, suddenly, the world was a wonderful place, and everything made sense …. I knew what he needed in the way of love and affection, and he pretty soon figured out that I needed the same things …. I guess we fell in love, in spite of our selves …."
He could hear the wobble in her voice then, and could imagine those huge brown eyes luminous with unshed tears and could not help wondering if she would tell him why it had all gone south ….
He also knew that he wouldn't have gotten anywhere near this much information out of Hawke himself ….
"Anyway …." She took in a deep breath and seemed to pull herself together, perhaps realising that she had said just a little too much ….
"Things changed …. Circumstances over which neither of us had any control …. Fate intervened …." And her tone of voice now made it obvious that she was not prepared to go into any kind of detail.
"We had to go our separate ways …. And we lost touch with each other …. until recently …. When we ran into each other by accident …."
"That day at the school?"
"Yes …. You can imagine my surprise when he stepped out of that Army Huey …. He'd hardly changed at all, so handsome …. So hurt, so angry so …. Confused."
Santini could imagine Hawke's reaction. He had seen the young man when he had returned to the hangar that day and had known that something had occurred to ruffle his usually calm feathers.
"The rest, I am sure, you know …."
"Ya think!" Santini chuckled. "I know you make him very happy." Santini smiled. "That's what I know."
"He makes me happy too."
"I never seen him like this before, honey …. I've been meaning to thank you for that …."
"All I did, was love him, Dominic …. The rest he did himself …."
"You make that sound so easy, but I know different …. Somehow String seems to think that he and love don't exactly go together …. He believes that every time he gives his love, Fate finds some way to punish him."
"I know …." There was something so sorrowful in her voice then, Dominic Santini wished that he could see her face.
"Not any more though." He made his tone light hearted then. "I got a good feelin' about you two …."
"Yeah …. Me too …."
"Got anything to eat back there?"
"Dom …."
"I know, but thinking about my stomach will stop me thinking about those mountains we might be crashing into, if I don't get the hang of this starlight thingy …."
"All the more reason to keep your eyes on the road, don't you think?"
"Cheek! Just you concentrate on keeping our asses out of trouble …. Anything going on back there?"
"No …. Scopes are clear …. Oh hello …."
"Hello?"
"Now there's a coincidence …. You psychic or something?
"Why?"
"Bogies …."
"Where?" Santini demanded brusquely then. "What? Why didn't you tell me we'd penetrated Soviet airspace!"
"Because we haven't, Dominic …." She double checked their position with the navigation computer. They were still over two hundred and fifty miles away from the Russian coast, although it wouldn't have been long before she would have gotten a proximity alert from the computer, they were still a long way from their destination.
"Where are those birds now?"
"Twelve o'clock, Angels 30, fifty miles and closing …." Alex turned her attention to the panel before her and using the miniature keyboard typed in the code: Ident Bogie and then watched as the command was acknowledged with the message: Search Enabled. A few seconds later she was rewarded with an image of the blips that were closing in on her radar scope. "MiG 23's armed with …. Ario missiles …."
"Oh brother …."
"Don't panic, Dom. My guess is they're a routine patrol and they're on their way back home to their vodka and their Borscht."
"I hope you're right …."
"Dom, they're coming from the North and heading East …. Same direction as us …. Not toward us, but ahead of us." She informed. "Maybe made a routine pass over the Arctic …. They have some research facilities up that way, so they probably went for a look-see to make sure everything was ok …. But they're too far away and going too fast to notice little ole us, behind them …. We're absorbing 92 of their radar scans …." She assured. "Let's hope they're as interested in their stomachs as you are …." She quipped.
"Yeah …. Do you hear that!" Santini groaned as a growling noise filled the cockpit.
She did hear it too.
It was his stomach growling and she could not help chortling out loud.
"Where are those birds now?"
"Off the scope …. Like homing pigeons hankering after their coop, Dom …. Wanting their dinner and their nice warm roosts …."
"Ok …. So how's a guy supposed to concentrate if he's weak from hunger?" Dominic played the sympathy card now, relieved that any threat to them had passed for the moment. "Trying not to but those mountains just keep floating up in front of my eyes …."
"Oh boy …. Then by all means, keep thinking about your stomach!"
"I keep thinking about that steak dinner Archangel is gonna owe us when we get home."
"Oh well …. Dream on …. I packed Cheese and Pickle, or Ham Salad on Rye …."
"No Pastrami?"
"Yuk."
"You sound just like …."
"String." They said together.
"You take what you want first honey, I don't mind what's left."
"Actually, I'm not really that hungry …"
"Sure? Okay, I'll take one of each then …. Nothing disturbs my appetite."
"So I see …."
Alexandra Beecham casually leaned down to reach into the wicker basket that she had placed at her feet, having asked the Mess Officer back there at Elmendorf to pack it with food for their journey, and suddenly her head was filled with a terrifying roaring noise, as she felt the rear cabin tip up around her …. a sharp, excruciating pain shooting across the top of her head, like someone had split her skull with an axe …. Everything suddenly going black …. robbing her of breath.
She lunged forward making a grab for the control panel in front of her wanting to rip off her helmet so that her head would stop feeling like it was about to explode, but she needed both hands as she steadied herself, until the world righted its self once again, her stomach rolling and a wave of nausea making her gag.
She quickly drew in several deep breaths and willed the pain in her head to subside, then opened her eyes and quickly scanned the instruments around her, satisfying herself that Dominic Santini hadn't suddenly decided to go into his stunt pilot mode and throw in a barrel roll for her amusement.
"You ok back there?" Dominic's voice held a hint of concern and she realised that he must have heard her gagging. "You're not having one of those moments, are you honey?" There was genuine anxiety in his voice then. "Alex …."
"No, Dom …." She managed at last. "Just clearing my throat …." She assured him softly, watching the violent tremor of her hands as she let go of the instrument panel before her at last.
Oh boy ….
No ….
Not now, dammit ….
Not now!
"You want coffee with that …." She added, hoping that he would not notice the tremor in her voice now, as she realised the significance of the incident, her heart pounding frantically in her breast and her hands still shaking violently.
She blinked rapidly several times to clear her vision as her eyes welled with tears of pain and fear, her head still feeling like it was clamped in a vice, although the worst of the pain was subsiding now.
Oh God no ….
Just give me a little longer ….
Just a little longer ….
Long enough to see the man I love …. Just once more ….
"You got coffee too?" Dominic was saying now and she found that she was grateful for the distraction. "Wow …. Smart, devious, beautiful and a good housekeeper …." He chortled then. "Yeah …. Why not."
Dashing away her tears, Alexandra covered her moment of weakness by busying herself with the food, carefully passing forward the small cup off the top of the thermos flask of coffee to him and the food he had requested.
"Look Mom …. No hands!" Santini quipped as he took a huge bite out of a cheese and pickle sandwich and sloshed hot black coffee into his mouth after it, the unmanned stick barely moving as Airwolf maintained her speed and altitude.
"You sure you're ok back there, honey?" Santini asked, wiping bread crumbs from his lips with the back of his hand and brushing more crumbs from his lap.
"Just having a sentimental moment, that's all …." She lied, hoping that he would accept her answer, and knowing that he was more astute than he looked ….
He had heard her gagging, heard the tremor and the momentary panic in her voice, and possibly her sniffing away her tears ….
He wasn't dumb.
He knew something was awry.
"Does that mean when we pick String up, you're gonna get all mushy on me?"
"Mushy?"
"Mushy."
"Only if you do …." She countered with a soft, genuine smile. "By the bucket load …." She chuckled. "He's probably gonna think he's drowning …." This time she let out a genuine giggle.
God bless you, Dominic Santini ….
You're such a dear, sweet, wonderful man ….
I wish I'd had more time to get to know you better ….
"That's ma girl …."
After his repast, Santini grew quiet once more and thoughtful, and Alex was glad for a chance to get her breath back and her equilibrium.
The 'dizzy spell' ….
She did not know what else to call it ….
Had frightened her more than she had had time to recognise at the time ….
And the pain ….
She had become used to the constant nagging ache that always seemed to be there, in the background, to varying degrees ….
Had learned to accept it's presence like an old friend.
But this pain had been different.
It was a significant, and worrying change.
Whatever had caused it, there was nothing that she could do to change it now.
Was this it then?
Was this the beginning of the end?
No ….
She mustn't start thinking like that ….
She couldn't let herself dwell on it.
She needed all her wits about her to concentrate on the mission and keep both her eyes and her mind focused.
As they drew closer to their destination, Alex Beecham sensed the change in Dominic's mood. He suddenly became all serious and businesslike when she told him that they had finally penetrated Soviet airspace.
"Company?"
"Nope …. It's just you, me and the stars up here, Dom …." She assured.
"Guess you were right about those MiGs …. This time …. Ok …. You see anything, I want to know right away …."
"Of course you do, Dominic …." She sighed deeply and rolled her eyes heavenward. "That's what I am here for …."
"Huh?"
"To be the eyes in the back of your head."
"Rear seat drivers …." He sighed in exasperation, but he was pleased to hear from her voice that whatever had overcome her for a moment or two earlier had passed, and she was back on form with the rapier wit.
"We're over the Sea of Okhotsk …. coming up on the Russian coast in five minutes …. Welcome to Magadan, ladies and gentlemen …."
Information began to fill the computer screen before her and she read it out to Dominic.
"Co ordinates 59 degrees and 33 minutes North, 150 degrees and 48 minutes East. Major port with ship building and fishing as the main industries, as well as Gold Mining a little further in land …. Oh boy …. Says here it's suspected to be run by forced labour ….
"Terrific, just what we needed …. A gulag and a Gold mine …. Is there any other place hotter in the Soviet Union? Gonna have Mother Russia's finest crawling all over us inside of five minutes to make sure word of both doesn't get out …." He grumbled darkly.
"Calm down, Dom, I'm sure any ground troops will be far more interested in making sure the gold and their workforce don't disappear …." Alex countered confidently, her eyes still focused on the computer screen which was continuing to throw up more information on their destination.
"Gee, Dom …." She changed the subject quickly. "I hope you brought your long johns …."
"My what?"
"Your thermal underwear …." She chuckled again. "Boy it gets cold down there in the winter …. Sub arctic conditions, prolonged winters …." She continued to read. "Six months of sub zero and below zero temperatures …. Terrain is mostly permafrost and tundra …. Average temperatures range from -8 degrees Fahrenheit in January to 54 degrees Fahrenheit in July …. Miami Beach it's not …."
"Then lets not hang around down there, else we're likely to freeze to the spot …."
"Not tonight Dom, it's a balmy 48 degrees out there right now …."
"Call that balmy! Maybe if you're an Eskimo …. Me, I'm from California, and these old bones prefer something a little closer to 80 or 90 degrees …."
"Dom, it was only 53 degrees when we left Alaska …." Alex chuckled.
"Yeah, I know …. Couldn't you hear these old bones creaking every time I moved …." He grumbled. "How soon before we hit the mountains?"
"Bloody hell ….. I hope you don't mean that literally, Dominic …." She heard him groan as she punched in a request for the information he wanted from the navigation systems. "The Cherskiy Mountain Range …."
"That's the ones …."
"Our rendezvous co ordinates put us in the foothills, Dominic …." He could hear the frown in her voice now. "What are you worrying about, even Mr Magoo would see those coming …."
"What's our ETA?"
"Approximately fifteen minutes …." She told him matter of factly. "What are you thinking?"
"That if we get company, we might just have to go over those mountains to get back over the ocean …."
"Ok …. The highest point is Peak Pobeda, which is 3,147 meters high …. The area is barely inhabited, the odd mining community…. Just a few cottages scattered around the hills …. so that should make spotting our people easy enough …. Not so easy for us to put down if we get into trouble …."
"Then lets not …."
"I'm with you on that one, Dominic, no argument from me!"
"What's our ETA now?"
"Twelve minutes …." She sighed softly. "One good thing Dom, it's so remote down there, you'd have to know what you were looking for …. Less chance of a routine patrol picking them up …. No nosy locals to point the Red Army in their direction …." She assured and he was grateful to her. "They'll probably be too busy guarding their gold anyway …."
"I hope you're right kid …. Ok …. Well …. Ready or not kiddo, here goes nothing!"
