Title: Wolf Hunt (continued)
Author: Lady Chal
Rating: PG-13 (mild language)
Classification: Angst/Adventure, Caitlin/String
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, wish they did!
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Chapter Ten: Uncomfortable Possibilities
Mike Rivers swung down from the saddle and gave the tired horse a solid clap on the shoulder. "Good job, old fella. It's not far now."
They were, he judged, about a quarter of a mile from the camp, and he needed the opportunity to stretch his legs, almost as much as the horse needed the rest. He checked his chronometer. It had taken him about forty minutes to ride down the other side of the mesa and back up the trail to the camp. Locke had been having kittens when he left. The chopper was crippled, the radio was out and for some reason, and the damned satellite phone couldn't get a clear signal on the mesa. By now, River thought, Locke would have graduated from kittens to puppies. No, make that Dobermans. Hell, by the time he actually had contacted the Firm and actually gotten another chopper out here, Locke would have skipped over cows and gone straight to having a Brahma bull.
Not that Rivers was overly concerned about it. The bastard had it coming.
He'd never liked endangering women and children unnecessarily. It happened often in war. –Sometimes too often, but that was one of the cold facts of guerilla warfare. Innocent civilians were used as cover, and too often, they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. –Or they were willing participants, giving aid and shelter to the enemy.
But this was different. The last time he'd checked, Stringfellow Hawke was not the enemy. He was one of their own, a pilot and an operative who'd risked his life in over 100 missions for the Firm. He'd read the file on all of them: Hawke, Santini, and even the O'Shaughnessy woman. They weren't the type to turn, no matter what Locke seemed to believe, and as far as Rivers was concerned, making a grab for the kid was the stupidest thing they could have done.
He knew why Locke wanted the boy: insurance. In the event that Hawke woke up, Locke needed the leverage to make sure that Hawke would turn over Airwolf. Hawke knew it too, had known it for sometime and –judging from the morning's events-- had planned for just such an occasion.
The O'Shaughnessy woman had been the key, Rivers saw now. Locke had underestimated her, and she had dodged them at every turn. She knew where Airwolf was. Hell, right now she had the damned thing in her possession, and she had used it to come for the boy, knowing that the Firm would try to make a grab for him. Rivers shook his head and swore softly. It was going to be even more difficult now. She was convinced the Firm was out to get them –and she wasn't necessarily wrong about that. Furthermore, she might even believe that the Firm was behind Santini's death and Hawke's accident.
The thought brought Rivers up short. Was it possible? He frowned and considered the evidence: Archangel's mysterious transfer, the accident, and the rumors of St. John Hawke turning up alive… Hell yeah, it was possible. He pushed the thought away. Much as he didn't like the possibility, it did not affect him directly. It was also counterproductive to the task at hand: which was to find and obtain Airwolf.
However, it did give him a small window into the mind of Caitlin O'Shaughnessy. If she believed the Firm was behind all of this, then it certainly was not going to make his job any easier. Even if he did find her, he would have a hell of a time convincing her to turn Airwolf over to him.
What would she do with it? He wondered. Tempting though it might seem, he doubted she'd keep it. A machine such as Airwolf could be as much a liability as an asset. Even disguised as an expensive executive helicopter, Airwolf would be noticed. Money was always noticed, and Airwolf would require lots of money to maintain. Its fuel consumption was fairly high and with the Firm providing the munitions, it would only be a matter of time before she ran through the supply of ammunition Hawke and Santini had undoubtedly stockpiled. She would know that the Firm would be looking for it …and her.
No, Rivers decided. She wouldn't keep it.
He didn't believe she would trade it, either. Caitlin O'Shaughnessy did not seem like the type to sell out or cut deals with terrorists. Her file had not been as thick as the ones on Hawke and Santini, but the background check was no less thorough. She had been a deputy Sheriff with the Texas Highway Patrol, and was currently serving in the National Guard, after transferring her hitch from Texas to California. Her family was quiet, middle class, and her father had served in the Marines. Patrick O'Shaughnessy had been a decorated fighter pilot during World War II, and by all accounts his four daughters had adored him. He somehow sensed that the daughter of a Marine Corps fighter pilot would not be a likely candidate to commit treason against her country, no matter what the stakes. In spite of the Firm's fears, Rivers did not believe that even the possibility of trading Hawke's brother for Airwolf posed that much of a threat. Santini was dead, Hawke was out of commission, and Caitlin O'Shaughnessy probably didn't even know about it. –And if she did, Rivers thought, he wasn't so sure she gave a damn. She had never met St. John. She felt no loyalty towards him, as she did his brother and Santini. Her first concern would be the boy. She would not risk him, or herself, even if it meant saving his father.
She would probably return it to its hiding place, he decided, and then run like hell and pray the Firm wouldn't find her. –If she was lucky, they wouldn't. But if he was right, then perhaps things were looking up for his mission after all. He'd had a feeling that he was closing in on the helicopter, even before Locke's little detour to Arizona. He knew it had to be close, probably somewhere between Van Nuys field and Hawke's cabin in Bear Valley. He had interviewed Dr. Menske, who had worked with Hawke and Santini to purge the virus Donald Moffat had planted in the helicopter's computer systems two years before. They had taken her to the hiding place blindfolded, but she had seen enough to know they were somewhere in the Valley of the Gods. Unfortunately, the Valley of the Gods was a big place, and satellite scans had turned up nothing as of yet. He could spend six months searching every gopher hole and turning over every rock and he still might not find the damned thing. He needed a little more to go on than that, and he had a feeling that Josephine Santini was the key.
She had grown up with String and St. John, had played with them as children. She had mentioned to him in passing that Dom and String's parents used to take them camping there as children. If anyone had a clue as to where Hawke and Santini had hidden Airwolf, it was probably her. –He just had to convince her to help him. He really should go and talk to her again.
Rounding the corner of the bend, he stopped and drew a breath as the camp appeared before him, looking more like a stirred up ant hill than a boy scout camp as campers and counselors alike scrambled around in hurried activity. One of the counselors noticed him and hailed the camp director, who wasted no time in mounting a horse and galloping the rest of the way out to meet Rivers.
"Where's the boy?" Calvin Mackenzie demanded. Anger and concern were mingled in equal proportions across his face.
"Safe." Rivers assured him. "We caught up to him a few miles out, and explained things to him. He's probably with Ms. O'Shaughnessy by now."
That much at least, was the truth, Rivers thought grimly. Knowing the way the Firm operated, it was about as much of the truth as the man was likely to get about the events that had happened this day.
He handed the reins of the gelding over to the camp director. "I told them I'd bring back your horse. Can I use your radio to call for a ride?"
Mackenzie glared at him suspiciously. "I'll arrange one for you myself, if it will get you the hell away from my program."
Rivers nodded. He didn't blame the man. In fact, he privately sympathized with him. It was not a comfortable feeling. He had a sneaking suspicion that if he continued his work with the Firm, it might be a feeling he would have to learn to live with.