Airwolf and all associated characters (except mine) are owned by Belisarius Productions, NBC Universal Television, Atlantis Communications. All persons described herein are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental. Copyright infringement is not intended.
Chapter 2: Stress Fractures
"You must be kidding," Nadine scoffed as she glanced sideways at her former boss. "You need my help with your helicopter? I don't know any more than you probably do. For years, rumours have claimed it supposedly changed hands before disappearing in Germany."
"She's out there," Michael said with certainty. "That much I do know."
"Let's start at the beginning, then. Have you asked the family about it?"
"I did," he replied, lowering his voice. "Hawke was shattered, both physically and mentally, after the explosion that killed Dominic. He hardly ever flew again and didn't want anything more to do with Airwolf. Caitlin adopted Hawke's nephew Le Van and went back into law enforcement. The only thing that she would tell me was that before they went to ground, she changed Airwolf's programming so that nobody other than recognized personnel would be able to operate her."
She asked pointedly, "I assume that list includes you?"
"I don't see why it would," he mused, "given that I only assisted with the ops console twice. I was an aeronautics engineer, among other things, but not a pilot."
"Did she tell you who else might've been on it?"
"No, but I made some educated guesses. That's where things got murky. My replacement at the Company turned out to be somewhat unreliable. Later I discovered that he'd been brainwashed while on a mission and he had difficulty discerning allies from enemies for a long time afterward. Jo Santini admitted to me that she, Saint-John Hawke, and a Major Mike Rivers flew a number of Airwolf missions on the Company's orders, but wouldn't give specifics."
"I'm not surprised." Then she glanced at Michael quizzically. "Did you say Saint-John? Hawke's brother was finally found?"
"That's right, he was. The first thing he did when I introduced myself to him was acquaint me with his knuckles." He rubbed his jaw in rueful remembrance. "Then he gave me an earful about my abandonment of the family, even though I'd had no control over it."
Nadine squeezed his arm. "You were Firm, which they had every reason to hate by that point."
With a sigh he said, "Exactly, and it was then that Airwolf dropped off the radar. I could only conclude that the family either gave her back, having no further use for her, or they moved her from their usual hiding place and never spoke of it again."
"As interesting as all this is, I'm suspicious as to why you've been asked to track Airwolf down after all this time. That indicates that the government no longer has it or doesn't know what happened to it. Even if the machine were still around, that technology is far outmoded now. Who would want it other than a rich collector of vintage aircraft?"
"Any number of small countries that can't afford a brand-new one," he speculated. "It was the only helicopter that had the capabilities that it did. The reason that there's not fleets of them by now is that the schematics existed only in the onboard computer, and were heavily encrypted."
"Apparently nobody bothered to try hacking the computers," she commented.
"I'm sure that people have tried, but obviously were unsuccessful. It's possible that the only ones who might have the ability to access them directly are the pilots." He gave her a significant look.
She gaped at him. "You can't be suggesting…"
Michael stopped and put one hand on her shoulder. "I promised the family years ago that I wouldn't involve them any more, and I am a man of my word. It's a stretch, but Airwolf might recognize you; I know that you've flown."
Immediately Nadine protested, "In simulations, Michael! I never actually flew the thing! Besides, it's been more than twenty years since I've flown anything; I've very likely forgotten how!"
"But would you help me if you could?" Michael pressed her. "As a personal favour?" At her skeptical look he continued in a gentler tone, "You do remember the real purpose of that training program, that I took an interest in you because I saw your potential? You were never one to back down from a challenge."
Holding her arms out in frustration, she exploded, "Blast it, Michael Coldsmith-Briggs the Third, why do you even have to ask? Yes, I read the messages that were on that disk you gave me, and was as surprised as all get-out when I realized that you intended me to be your full-time aide once I'd completed the qualifications." Scoffing in disgust, she turned away. "You'd gone through, how many, half a dozen aides after Marella left, because there were none that you could fully trust?"
Michael began to chuckle. "Some things never change."
"Don't make me hit you," Nadine said softly.
"Are you sure you want to try?" he teased. "And it wasn't because I didn't trust those aides, but because they tended to see me as unapproachable, an authority figure that they had to serve and nothing else. You never treated me that way."
She looked back at him over her shoulder. Michael's sea-blue eye was twinkling and he had a tiny smirk on his face. It suddenly struck her that he was deliberately baiting her, but still allowing her the option to refuse, in deference to their old relationship. Her respect for him went up. "Airwolf, Loki, Fortune Teller… you guys seemed to never be able to hold onto any kind of cutting-edge hardware," she joked.
"Not for the lack of trying," he remarked sardonically. "Even in the most secure company there's always one idiot who decides that the money they can potentially get for such hardware is too good to pass up."
"So I'll say again, why is the Firm asking about Airwolf now, after all this time?" she asked. "They've sure had plenty of time to look for it."
"The only thing they would tell me was the usual excuse of it being a matter of national security. Marella is trying to dig into it, but even her position has limits."
Nadine assumed a thoughtful pose. "Well, I am a forensics technician and I know my way around the internet. Maybe I can find something that she can't."
Michael reached into his jacket pocket and handed her a thick envelope; it was plain white with a horse's head overlaid by a B embossed in one corner. "If you find anything, please call me. We'll make plans from there."
When Nadine got back, Lucas bombarded her with questions about what she and Michael had discussed. The only thing that she would tell him was that they'd reminisced about working together and the people they'd known back in the day. She already knew that it would be impossible to do any research from home; her husband frequently checked her emails and browser history even if they'd been deleted. She easily came up with a believable reason to go to her office the next day: that a colleague had asked her to help with a project.
As soon as she could get out of the house in the morning, she made her way to the station at which she worked. Luckily, she was able to avoid being cornered by one of the officers on duty and slipped into her lab. After she ensured that the door was locked and the blinds drawn, she logged into her computer and cracked her knuckles. "Okay, let's see what's what," she muttered to herself.
Basic searches on the modified Bell 222A helicopter turned up the expected results: standard specifications and performance charts, charter company rates, and the like. As she dug deeper into the morass that was the seedier side of the internet, a few things caught her attention. A site about urban legends mentioned multiple sightings of what was termed a "shadow-copter" across the southwestern states from the mid- to late-1980s. The wolf-like howl that its rotors created when at speed was noted much more frequently, particularly at twilight over the deserts of Arizona and Utah. Many of the Native American communities in the area regarded it as the embodiment of one of their mythical protectors.
Around the end of August 1987, it was heard no more. Speculation ranged from the craft having crashed, to being transformed into a spirit known as a tulpa. One account from a woman who'd supposedly been photographing wildlife in an area of desert known as Valley of the Gods had stumbled upon a cave that was certainly large enough to hide a helicopter in. But the place was empty and had been abandoned for a long time.
A quick perusal of modern satellite imagery made it easy to spot the hollow butte that had once been used as Airwolf's hideaway. Back in the 1980s there were few such resources, which made the remote location a perfect choice. It would've been logical for the family to move the machine once aerial photography became more commonplace.
The first alternate location that Nadine considered was near Stringfellow Hawke's cabin on Eagle Lake in California. She dismissed it just as quickly, given that Michael had told her that Hawke hadn't wanted anything more to do with it. Keeping it at the Santini Air hangar was too obvious. Then a half-forgotten conversation pricked at her memory. When she'd joined the internship program in the fall of '84, there'd been chatter among some of the older members about a scenario where a pilot had hidden a small plane underneath the wing of a much larger aircraft in order to avoid detection from above.
That definitely sounded like something either of the Hawke brothers might do. But where would such a hiding place be?
The answer came to her in a flash: an aircraft boneyard, of which there were over a dozen in the western states alone. There had to be at least one that stored planes of the size that could hide a helicopter.
Cracking her knuckles, she followed that lead, as thin as it was.
The temperature had dropped back to seasonal levels on Sunday morning, perfect for the flash mob that was about to take place in front of the community centre. Several people walked casually past, and then one woman in a bright green shirt doubled back to put a wireless speaker on the ground and connect a cellphone to it. A few seconds later, the Kenny Loggins song "I'm Alright" blared from the speaker. The woman moved a few paces away and began to energetically dance to the music.
Within seconds, she was joined by other dancers as a crowd gathered to watch. A handful more people, Nadine included, leapt off the centre's stairs in a coordinated move, and blended into the group seamlessly in time with the music. Spectators grinned and whistled, some having pulled out their phones to record the event.
Halfway through the second chorus, the music suddenly stopped.
All the performers jerked their heads in the direction of the speaker unit, and saw a tall dark-haired man standing with one foot resting on the top of it. He held up the cellphone with a childish grin and said, "Does this belong to someone?"
The lead dancer strode angrily over to the man and said, "Give me that," as she grabbed the phone from him. "We have permission to be here, and interrupting us was way rude. Now we'll have to start over. Back up and watch with everyone else, or go away."
"Make me," said the man with another grin.
"I will." The woman punched in a number on the phone. "Hi, Mark? It's Grace. Yeah, I'm fine, and I'm glad you're in today. Would you come out front please? We have a problem."
Less than thirty seconds later, the front door to the centre opened and a hefty security guard marched out. He'd barely reached the bottom of the steps before the dark-haired man slunk away.
"Sorry folks," one of the other dancers called out. "We'll do it again so you can see the whole routine." She waved a hand and the dancers dispersed. The green-shirted woman restarted the music, and this time the performance was able to run to completion. When the music ended, all of the dancers strolled off as if nothing had happened.
"What was that all about?!" Nadine hollered at Lucas when she got home. "The troupe was rehearsing that dance for weeks! Why do you have to mess up everything that I work so hard at?"
"You're my wife!" was the response. "You're supposed to be taking care of my needs, not gallivanting off without telling me and making a fool out of yourself."
"That's why I didn't tell you where I was going this morning!" she raged. "I'm tired of always doing what you want and not being able to do something for myself. There's nothing wrong with having some fun once in a while."
"Speaking of fun…" He gave her a leer and waggled his eyebrows.
"Oh, no!" she said as she held up one hand. "Not today. You don't deserve it, not after that stunt you pulled." She picked up her purse and held it defensively in front of her. "I'm going out again. When I get back, we're going to have a talk about boundaries – not that you ever respected mine anyway." She edged along the hallway to the door, determined not to turn her back on Lucas for fear he would try something, and let herself out.
Nadine ran down the street and to her favourite park, turning off her phone as she went. She didn't want Lucas to be able to trace it, plus she knew this place like the back of her hand and he wouldn't bother to follow her. Digging into a pocket, she pulled out a different cellphone, that had been in the package that Michael had given her a few days ago.
"Mr. Briggs," she said formally after her call connected. "I apologize for calling on a Sunday, but I've been considering the proposition that you made recently. When can we get started?"
"Dare I ask the reason for your hurry?" Michael asked, sounding amused.
"Let's just say that I've been supplied with a keen motivation."
A chuckle came across the line. "I can have a jet cleared to pick you up at YYF tomorrow afternoon. Is that doable?"
"I'll have to take an emergency leave from my work, but yes, it's doable." She didn't ask him how he was able to arrange that so quickly, but suspected that even though he was retired, he still had some pull at the Firm. "I'm looking forward to it."
Lucas confronted her as soon as she got back. "What is with you today? First you take off to that stupid community centre, then you run to that park that you're so proud of just to hide from me. You're selfish, immature, impossible–"
She cut him off. "How dare you! Since the day that I told you I didn't love you any more, you've done everything in your power to control me. I'd call that selfish. You won't even do the decent thing and make us both happy by agreeing to divorce. I'd call that immature. This farce of a marriage needs to end; I don't care any more what your family will think. I've just been informed that I'm to go on a business trip tomorrow, which will likely last up to a week, maybe longer. I expect you be out of this house by the time I get back."
His mouth dropped open, but he quickly recovered his composure. "This is my house too! I helped to buy it, and my name is on the deed."
"That can be changed," she said confidently. "As far as I'm concerned, this is effectively my house. I pay the bulk of the bills, I take care of the yard, I arrange for maintenance. Most of the furniture here belonged to my relatives. All you ever do other than working is sit at your computer or tinker with your car."
"At least I have proper skills," he sneered. "Not like your artsy stuff."
Nadine huffed in scorn. "Not that I've been able to use those skills lately. Have you even noticed that I don't draw, write, or sing any more? It's because you ribbed me so much about it that I lost my confidence. For goodness' sake, I can't even listen to the music I like when you're around! I hate the person that you've made me become, so I'm taking myself back." With that, she turned on her heel and strode down the hall. There were multiple things that she had to do before tomorrow's flight.
Her dumbfounded husband stared in disbelief before lurching after her. He grabbed her shoulder and forced her to turn around. "See how you like this, then," he growled. "Give me your ring."
She glanced at the thin gold band that was on her left hand. "What for?"
With no warning, he grabbed her hand and despite her struggles he managed to yank the ring off her finger. Then he held it up between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed it into a misshapen lump before casually dropping it onto the floor.
Torn between fury and angst, she stared at the destroyed ring for a moment. Then she retreated into the basement of the house and locked herself in the small room that she had once used as her art studio. Emotions that she'd held in check for a long time poured forth and she sobbed uncontrollably. Why had she let things get this bad? Why hadn't she insisted on a divorce years ago?
The truth hit her hard. Lucas had, deliberately or otherwise, squashed her spirit by belittling everything that she loved and controlling her as much as he could. He was such an insecure and possessive man that the only way he could keep a woman was to destroy her. Or as her mother once said: the caveman will throw the woman into the cave and roll a boulder to block the entrance; the civilized man will give the woman the choice to enter or exit. It was clear which type Lucas was.
Archangel had always given her the choice.
The errant thought surprised her. She'd been friendly with Michael and respected him, but had never thought of him in any way other than as her superior. He was her elder by three decades. Plus, he'd once told her that spies – intelligence agents, she corrected herself – couldn't maintain personal relationships for long because of the continuous danger of discovery or death. This was among the many reasons why he'd never married; she suspected there was something much deeper to it but had never asked out of deference to his privacy.
Nadine was startled out of her thoughts as Lucas pounded on the door, alternating between apologies and demands to be let in. "Go away!" she yelled. "I don't want to see or hear you for the next hour!"
"Come out here or I'll break the door down!" he threatened, as he often did to scare her into obeying.
This time she was not going to fall for it. "You do that and I'll call the police!" she retorted, thankful that she still had her phone with her. "I might just call them anyway if you don't leave in the next thirty seconds!" She began to count loudly.
The front door slammed by the time she reached thirty. To be sure that he was gone, she opened the door a crack and waited a few seconds more until she heard his car peel out of the driveway. Only then did she relax.
There was no time to waste, because she couldn't guess how long he would be out. She picked a suitcase out of the storage room and dragged it upstairs to the bedroom, where she quickly and efficiently filled it with a week's worth of clothing. A formal dress and shoes were included, in case such were needed – one could never tell with an assignment. Then she stopped and gave an ironic laugh as she realized that her old habits were beginning to come back to her even after all this time.
The most important thing that she packed was the memory stick that contained her research notes from the previous day, password protected so nobody other than herself could read its contents. Hopefully Michael would be pleased with what she'd found.
Lucas didn't return until the evening, which indicated that he'd gone to his parents' home. She didn't care what he might have told them; she was through with trying to please them. To her relief, he didn't speak to her or pay her any acknowledgement, instead choosing to sprawl on the living room couch. That suited her just fine.