Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story. I'm just borrowing them for some fun.

Chapter 4

Stringfellow Hawke was intently focused on the task at hand. Cold steel eyes as narrow as slits, his attention drawn to the sleek gray metal piece in his hand. His fingers worked the cloth methodically over each crevice. Should he choose, he knew he could do this task with his eyes closed. He had to be ready, he thought. Because whoever did this to Caitlin is going to feel his wrath unlike never before.

Across the hanger, Dominick Santini sighed an audible sigh as he watched the young pilot he considered to be a son cleaning his hand gun. He knew it wasn't even necessary; Hawke was ex-military. His weapons were always in premium condition. This was just a way for the younger man to vent his frustrations about the situation they were currently forced into. Caitlin had been taken, and they didn't know yet by whom. Dom had his suspicions as to who could be behind it, but frankly, until the captor or captors played their hand, they were stuck waiting. And the waiting was agonizing.

Dom added another heap of sugar to his coffee and swirled the liquid round and round, his mind continuing to process. He looked over at the hanger telephone, willing it to ring. "Poor Cait," he said, not even realizing he was speaking aloud. "I sure hope she's holding up well and they're being good to her."

Hawke stopped in his tracks at the interruption of the older man's voice and looked up. "So help me they better. Cause there's going to be hell to pay. And if they've hurt her in any way, even hell is going to look appealing to them when I get done." Hawke went back to cleaning his gun.

"Our girl is tough," Dom countered. He thought it best to try to stay positive. He knew Hawke was fond of Caitlin, even if he was too stubborn to admit it. He figured he'd better do all he could to keep the younger man as calm as possible. "If I know Cait, she's already giving them what for,"

Hawke actually smiled as he thought back to when he first met Caitlin O'Shannessy. She was Deputy Caitlin then, a member of the aerial unit of the Texas Highway Patrol. And she was fearless. She took it upon herself to confront the sheriff of Pope County about the treatment of Hawke's friend Jimmy Blake. And she was attacked and almost abused by the sheriff's cronies for her efforts. That's when Hawke first saw her. He and Dom had helped her out of a bad situation on that deserted Texas highway. Most women would have turn tail and run after that, but not Caitlin. She just went back to the judge and got a warrant to see the prisoner for herself. She'd strapped on her police issued gun and strode right into the jail house and confronted the sheriff and his deputy again. She had more guts than most men Hawke knew. And although Hawke wouldn't have recommended that approach to her, he certainly admired her gumption. It was one of the things he loved most about her.

"Yeah," Hawke answered Dom. "They may call begging us to call her off."

AWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAW

In the dingy cellar, Caitlin was doing her best to strategize a way out. "I don't know where I am, what's above me, or how many of them there are," she said aloud to herself. "This should be a piece of cake, right?" her voice wavered with sarcasm. She blew a strand of her red hair out of her eyes, and decided to put her plan in motion. "Here goes nothing," she whispered.

She crossed the room into the tiny alcove that led to the exit. Climbing the ladder attached to the wall, she banged hard on the top of the door, not letting up. Her added her voice next. "Hey! Heeeeey! Someone answer me! I need out of here! Come on, I need to talk to you!" She continued her mantra for a good five minutes. She knew at least one person was above, she could hear the occasional heavy footsteps.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, she head the footsteps cross the floor, coming to stop over the trap door. She heard something heavy drug off the top, then the trap door slowly began to creak open. The sudden light crashed into her eyes, causing her to step off the rung back onto the dirt floor and use her arms to shield her eyes from the sudden intrusion of light.

"Shut UP down there!" came a deep voice.

"Hey!" Caitlin yelled back indignantly. "I gotta use the little girl's room."

"Too bad, lady." the voice answered. "Make do with what ya got."

Caitlin wasn't about to give up that easy. "You don't understand, uh sir." She thought maybe a nicer approach would help. She softened. "I *really* got to go. I don't feel so good either. Please, sir. Please just allow me a minute of your time. I promise not to ask for anything else." She looked up, hoping he could see her face. She drew her eyes into large puppy dog eyes, and tried her best to appear weak and fragile. There was no response, and Caitlin was about to start to fake crying when out of the blue the answer came.

"Oh, alright. I suppose so. But just for a minute," the man acquiesced and pulled the heavy wooden door open wider.

"Oh thank you sir!" Caitlin exclaimed. She climbed almost to the top of the ladder, then paused. "Help me out please?" she pleaded. She held her arm out to the stranger. "I'm still a bit woozy I'm afraid." Cait got her first look at her captor. He was a big guy, dark hair, probably stood 6 foot in his boots.

"Hurry up, missy," the guy answered, and leaned over the opening to take her hand to help her out.

At that moment, Caitlin took advantage of his imbalance and pulled the man hard. Ducking to her left, she pulled with all her might, and the burly captor screamed as he tumbled through the hole. She heard the sickening thud as his body hit the hard floor. She heard his cries of pain. "Take that, you goon!" she yelled as she pulled herself up and out of the cellar that imprisoned her. She let the wooden door drop shut behind her. Looking around, she appeared to be in a farmhouse of some sort. Spying the heavy kitchen table, she drug it roughly across the room, allowing the table leg to rest atop of the trap door. "That ought to hold you!" she yelled at the door.

Glancing quickly around the room, she hunted for a telephone. But the kitchen was sparse. She carefully darted into the next room, in case he hadn't been alone. There was no one to be found. "The living room," she thought. In the background, a college football game played on the old black and white television set. Across the room, her eyes lit up as she spied the green rotary dial telephone hanging on the wall. "Yes!" she cried. She ran over to the phone and picked up the receiver. A dial tone was music to her ears. She paused for a moment, not sure where she even was, but then assumed it was going to be a long distance call. Deft fingers dialed the familiar number. Caitlin clutched the receiver with baited breath as she heard the line begin to ring. "Come on, come on, come on" she pleaded.

AWAWAWAWAWAWAW

Hawke and Dom were jolted out of their silent camaraderie when the hangar telephone began it's shrill ring. Quickly, Hawke dashed across the way, Dom right behind him. He grabbed the phone and barked roughly, "Hawke" in greeting.

"Hawke! Oh thank God!" came the excited voice on the other end.

"Caitlin!" Hawke practically shouted back. Relief flooded his body. He looked up at an anxious, but smiling Dom.

"Hawke!" she cried again. "Please come help me. They knocked me out and drugged me Hawke. I tried to fight them off but there was more than one," Caitlin cried.

"Cait," Hawke cut her off, wanting to get to the point of where she was. "Where are you?"

Caitlin realized at that moment that was the one question she couldn't fully answer. But she had a really good guess. "I'm not sure," she said shakily. "They drugged me, and I'm not sure how long I was out. I'm in an old farmhouse of some type. I don't know the exact address. She glanced down on the hutch next to the phone and saw the telephone directory. The familiar cover of the directory suddenly filled her in as to her exact location. "God in Heaven!" she exclaimed.

"Cait, where ARE you?" Hawke asked again.

"Hawke, I'm in..." but Caitlin didn't get to finish her sentence. Hawke heard the sounds of a muffled fight on the other end of the line. He heard Cait scream, then silence.

"Cait!" "Caitlin! What's happening?!" Something had happened to Cait.

He heard more noise, and then an ominous voice seeped across the line.

"Stringfellow Hawke," the thick accented voice said. "Just the man I wanted to speak to. You want your girl back? Then you get your ass to Pope County, Texas. We got a score to settle. And I'll tell you one time, and one time only. You leave that big flying saucer of yours behind, or you'll never see your girl again alive."

"Who is this?" Hawke's voice sliced through the phone. It couldn't be who he thought it was. He was dead. Hawke had seen to that on his first trip.

An evil cackle was his answer. "See you at the Hog Pen, Hawke." The line went dead.