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 Eleven: A Question of Trust
Hawke's Cabin
Bear Valley
Tuesday, July 29, 1986
Josephine Santini kicked at the small stone under her foot, sending it skittering down the path in front her as she cursed herself for a fool. No way was Caitlin O'Shaughnessy going to show. She was probably half a world away by now, taking String's nephew and the Firm's fancy helicopter with her.
She believed it now. She believed every word of the improbable tale Jason Locke had told her about String and Dom and the billion dollar aircraft they had stolen from the Firm and ransomed for information about St. John's whereabouts. She believed it even more after that Army officer, Major Rivers had shown up at her door last night, asking more questions about String and Dom and their flying habits and flight plans. She sighed as she stared down to the boat dock, where the sole surviving Santini Jet Ranger was landed. The only thing she did not believe was that Caitlin O'Shaughnessy would keep her end of the bargain and deliver her the helicopter.
God knew she wouldn't have, were she in the other woman's shoes. If she'd had a piece of equipment like that in her hands, she would be far too tempted to take the boy and run as fast and far as the chopper would take her. No, she thought, pacing the length of the dock, she would not come here if she were Caitlin O'Shaughnessy. This would be an obvious place for the Firm to watch. Bringing the chopper here would be tantamount to waving a fox's tail in front of a pack of hounds.
Jo sighed. She honestly didn't know what she was doing here, wasting her time, except….they had trusted her. Dom and String had trusted this woman, this…stranger. Dom had trusted her with his beloved antique airplanes and String had trusted her with Li. The fact that the two of them had let her in on their top-secret stolen helicopter spoke volumes in itself. Neither String nor Dom were men who trusted easily, and it made Jo wonder how in the hell Caitlin O'Shaughnessy had slipped under their radar. Hell, they hadn't even told her about any of this, Jo thought viciously, and she was family! That was what made her so damned mad about this whole situation.
Of course, she reflected as she turned the problem over in her mind, there was also another perspective to be considered. If she had no reason to trust Caitlin O'Shaughnessy, Caitlin O'Shaughnessy had even less reason to trust her. The Santini women had not made a very good accounting of themselves with the fiery tempered Texan. First there was the whole thing with Jo's Cousin Holly going off the deep end and trying to kill Caitlin in some jealous delusion over String. And then, to top it off, there had been that whole fiasco with Dom's ex-wife and daughter that had landed him in prison on murder charges. When she had told Caitlin of her own conversation with Jason Locke, it was little wonder the woman had regarded her with suspicion.
Jo glanced again at her watch. It was 8:55. The five minute wait seemed both endless and pointless.
"What am I doing here?" she muttered to herself. God knew the O'Shaughnessy woman would have probably said anything just to get away from her, and there were a hundred other things she should be doing instead of waiting for a woman that was never going to show. She should be finishing the arrangements for Dom's funeral. She could be sitting at String's bed side, wondering which one of the shallow, raspy breaths was going to be his last. She could be back at the office, sitting at Dom's desk and staring at the four walls as she fingered St. John's ring and thought of him waiting in some nameless hell hole for a rescue that would never come. There, she thought glumly, was her answer. There were other things she could be doing, but none of them were better than this. Here, at least, was hope. –At least for the next five minutes.
Shivering against the damp chill of the morning air, Jo thrust her hands deep into the pockets of her old bomber jacket. Her fingers encountered the sharp metal corner of the picture frame. She had taken it from the mantel over String's fireplace only a few minutes before. Finding herself at loose ends upon her arrival, she had gone into the cabin to feed the dog. –If indeed there still was one. She had called and called, but there was no sign of Tet. For a moment, she wondered if someone else had come for the animal and made her way slowly through the cabin, checking for any signs of disturbance. Unfortunately, she was not familiar enough with String's home to discern if anything was missing. Even still, there was an unearthly stillness to the house, an air of abandonment, a sense of life disrupted and never to be resumed. Dom's quarters had felt much the same way and Jo found herself fleeing the cabin as she had fled the hangar with its forlorn silence and air of tragedy.
It had been the tiny snapshot on the mantel that had caught her eye as she was leaving. She found her steps slowing, found herself pausing, saw her own trembling hand reach up to touch the faces half-forgotten but still so dear. --Stringfellow …and St. John.
God, she'd forgotten how handsome he'd been. She had thought she had remembered --had found herself surreptitiously watching String these past few days, noting and savoring the small traits –the little movements and expressions—that so hauntingly echoed those of his older brother. Were it not for the raspy baritone of String's voice, she might not have been able to recall what he sounded like all together. She knew somehow that it was richer, warmer than that of his younger brother's, but time had faded it to a dull whisper that spoke in echoed fragments from the corners of her heart.
There now, Josie, don't you go getting all weepy on me. String and I'll be home before you know it.
Except before she knew it, it had been twelve years, and all she had were a few old photographs and faded memories. Taking the small, framed picture from her pocket, Jo looked at it once more, finally able to admit to herself what she had not been able to admit to St. John in that dirty, crowded bus station all those years ago, when she and Dom and Holly had bid the brothers goodbye as they left for Vietnam. She had loved St. John Hawke. Perhaps it had been a foolish, girlish first love, but it had never really gone away, and as she stood there, staring at the carefully framed photo from String's fireplace, she knew that she loved him still. Like String, St. John's absence had left her somehow …incomplete.
That, she knew, was why she was standing here, waiting on this damp and chilly dock for a miracle that was never going to…
"Oh …My God!" she breathed, feeling the soft rise of the breeze around her before she actually heard it: the howl of engines that seemed eerily alive. It skimmed above the water like the shadow of the eagle, moving fast and low as it swooped towards the cabin. It was, Jo Santini thought, the most beautiful thing she had ever seen –and the most lethal.
She raked a hand through her hair in an effort to keep her short, ash blonde bangs from blowing in her eyes as the aircraft drew nearer. She was nearly deafened by the throaty keen of the engines as the helicopter passed low above her head, showing its clean white belly as it passed. The aircraft came to hover above a small flat clearing beside the cabin –not far from where String chopped wood—and the three small wheels of the landing gear lowered to gain purchase on the rocky ground.
The engines cut out and the props slowly wound down with a low moan that eventually faded to silence. For a long moment, the slim dark figure in the cockpit regarded her intently, and then the gloved hands removed the heavy black helmet to reveal the flame red hair of Caitlin O'Shaughnessy. They stared at each other for a long while through the armored glass of the windscreen, blue eyes locking with brown, each assessing the other. Then, with a soft, predatory hiss the hatch door released, and Caitlin O'Shaughnessy stepped from the helicopter.
Surprised as Jo was that the woman had actually kept the meeting, she was not at all startled by the sight of the .45 Colt automatic. The red haired woman held it easily, flat against her thigh, barrel pointing towards the dirt, but ready to bring it to bear in a moments notice if necessary. Caitlin O'Shaughnessy might be many things, but she was obviously nobody's fool.
"You came," Jo said, and was half embarrassed by the thought that rushed from her lips before she could control it.
"I came," O'Shaughnessy said with more than hint of reluctance. "--Against my better judgment."
Jo took a step forward and immediately froze as the .45 was leveled upon her chest.
"Stop," Caitlin said firmly. "You and I need to talk first."
Jo nodded. This woman had no reason to trust her, and even less to hand over the helicopter. –Especially when it was the only bargaining chip she had left.
"I didn't tell the Firm," Jo said quietly.
The other woman nodded. "I know. If you had, I wouldn't be here. It would have set off every bell on the Lady's scope."
The Lady, so that was what they called her. Jo felt a small constriction in her throat as she remembered Dom's cryptic notations in the old calendar he kept on his desk. Fly with Hawke & the Lady. Bring dinner. At the time, she'd teased him about having a secret girlfriend. She should have known. Dom had once told her that the only ladies who had ever been true to him were his aircraft and her. But as she stared down the barrel of Caitlin's .45, she was starting to think there was one more woman he should have added to the list.
Jo took a careful step back, raising one palm towards Caitlin as she did so. "Ok," she said nervously, "Just don't point that thing towards me, ok?"
The hard blue eyes narrowed and Caitlin shook her head. "No," she said, her voice quiet. She jerked her head towards the cabin. "Up against the wall, and spread 'em."
Uneasily, Jo complied, careful to make no sudden movements as she walked up the short path to the cabin and "assumed the position" against the rough log walls. She vaguely remembered Dom telling her that his female pilot had once been a deputy Sheriff. Obviously the woman had not forgotten her training. The hands that frisked her were quick and efficient, missing nothing, not even the hard square of the picture frame that resided in the pocket of Jo's jacket. The picture was extracted by one small, deft hand and a long moment of silence followed.
Jo risked a glance over her shoulder at the other woman. She did not really know Caitlin O'Shaughnessy, but from their brief encounter the previous evening, she seemed to be the type of person whose face openly demonstrated her thoughts.
At this particular moment, however, the mixture of emotions that flitted across the woman's face was so jumbled that Jo could not begin to decipher them. Sadness, anger, love and even hatred all seemed to war for position in the china blue eyes as she stared down at the snapshot of the two brothers. Wordlessly, Caitlin holstered her gun and handed the picture back to Jo.
"Come on," she said quietly, "It's not safe to talk here."
They passed the first twenty minutes in total silence. Whether the other woman did it to gather her own scattered thoughts, or to allow Jo time to marvel at the wonder of aviation that was Airwolf, Jo was uncertain, but by the time they had rocketed away from Bear Valley and hovered some two miles above some nameless point in the flat alkali plains of Death Valley, they both found themselves ready to speak.
"How's String?"
"How's Li?"
Their questions toppled out simultaneously, the words tumbling over one another in a way that made each of them smile nervously.
Caitlin turned to Jo, and the blue of her eyes softened just a shade. "He's fine. We got to him just in time. Your friend Mr. Locke didn't appear to be very happy about it, though."
"I wouldn't doubt it." Jo murmured. "Where's Li now?"
"He's with a friend. Someone the Firm doesn't know about." The blue eyes hardened again, ending that line of questioning, and Jo wondered if the friend in particular was not also the other half of the mysterious "we" who had participated in the boy's retrieval.
"What about String?"
Jo sighed, wishing her news was as happy. "It doesn't look good," she said gently. "He slipped into a coma last night. His brain activity seems to be fading. The doctors have put him on life support."
"He's giving up," Caitlin whispered.
Jo watched as the other woman's hand tightened on the stick. She loves him, Jo realized, and swallowed hard against the tightness that clenched at her throat once more. "I think," she began and then drew a deep breath. "I think he'd be gone already, except…"
"Except what?" Caitlin's words, so softly spoken were little more than a hoarse whisper inside Jo's helmet.
"I think he's waiting for St. John." Jo finished.
She was unprepared for the explosion that followed.
"Damn him!" Caitlin spat, "Damn St. John Hawke straight to Hell!" She let go of the stick and swore viciously, slamming her fists against the console. "Damn him for being alive after all these years! Damn him for expecting String to get him out of this! Why the hell couldn't he have just died all those years ago and been done with it?"
The aircraft, drifting aimlessly without her hand to guide it, caught a gentle draft of wind and lurched slightly, sending Jo's hands scrambling for the controls in front of her. She let the helicopter level out, marveling at the smooth way it handled and then turned to the woman at her side. O'Shaughnessy sat still and silent for a long moment, her helmet torn off and cast aside, and her face buried in her black gloved hands as she struggled to regain her composure.
At last, she reached for the helmet, and tugged it back down onto her head. "I'm sorry," she said finally, her voice sounding soft and thin inside the com system of Jo's helmet.
"It's all right," Jo said quietly, "I've only wanted to tell St. John that for the last twelve years or so."
She shot Caitlin a sideways glance. "What are you going to do?"
The slender Texan shook her head and slumped back in her seat. "I don't know," she confessed. "They won't give any of us any peace until they have Airwolf, but I can't give her to them. The only reason we're still alive right now is because they don't have the faintest idea of where she is. If they kill us before then, they'll never find her."
Jo stared at her in wide-eyed amazement. "You can't believe that they would actually—"
"They already have," Caitlin said tiredly.
The words sent a chill coursing through Jo. Oh God. No. Not that. "No," she said hoarsely, "No, it wasn't them. Locke said it was the Iraqis. He said they were trying to force String's hand."
"He would," Caitlin said dryly. She shrugged. "And why not? It's a plausible theory. –I even considered it myself. But it's not the only one."
"What are you saying?" Jo demanded.
The other woman turned to face her, leveling her with the weight of her sapphire gaze. "When it comes to the Firm, String and Dom taught me that there's only one rule to remember: Never trust them --at least not completely."
"You think they were behind this?" Jo asked, feeling cold rope of icy fear snake through her gut. God, no! Not Dom. Not String. Not that.
Caitlin lifted one shoulder in a listless gesture. "It's a definite possibility. –One I'm starting to consider more and more as this goes on."
"But Dom and String worked for them!" Jo protested. "They were on their side!"
Caitlin shook her head. "No. They weren't. One thing you have to realize about the Firm is that it only has one side and one interest: its own."
Jo shook her head. "I don't believe it. They couldn't actually do something like that. –Not to their own people!"
Caitlin did not reply, but her intense silence spoke volumes and Jo understood that the slim, red-haired woman truly believed the words she had uttered.
Jo shook her head harder, blinking back the tears that threatened to engulf her. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. The Firm was the only hope she had of getting St. John back, if she couldn't count on them, who was left? She drew in a deep shuddering breath. "But Locke said—"
"Locke will say anything to get his hands on this machine." Caitlin said grimly. "He works for the Firm. You can't trust him."
Seeing Jo's look of doubt, Caitlin sighed heavily. "Look, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Locke is telling you the truth and the Firm didn't have anything to do with this. But what if he isn't? You can't risk that. I can't risk that. Whatever you tell Locke, one thing is certain: he will take it back to his superiors and they are the ones calling the shots in this game. The Committee is your most dangerous enemy. Never forget that."
"How can you be so sure of all this?"
Caitlin regarded her carefully, at last coming to some silent decision. "In the entire Firm, there was only one person that Hawke and Dom ever came close to trusting: Locke's predecessor, a man called Archangel. He was the man Hawke originally made the deal with. Hawke told me that when the package from St. John showed up, he went to the Firm to see Michael, but Locke met with him instead. He was told that Michael had been transferred to director of operations for in the Middle East."
"You don't believe it?"
Caitlin shook her head. "Michael wouldn't have gone so quietly. Not without a fight. Airwolf was his project ...his baby."
She reached into the zippered pocket on the sleeve of her flight suit and extracted a slip of paper. It was a folded newspaper clipping. "We were cut off from Michael once before, when the committee tried to replace him and take Airwolf back by force. After that, String and Dom set up a drop box where he could contact us if something like that ever happened again. I checked it out this morning. I found this."
Jo took the paper from her fingers and unfolded it. It was a short article with a photograph of a ruggedly handsome, fair haired man, mustached and bespectacled and dapperly attired in a white suit. From the weathered face, she guessed him to be a good ten years older than Hawke, and there was a sparkle to his eyes that lent him an aura of benevolence and good humor. She could see why String and Dom might have been tempted to trust him. She would have too, much more so than the dark and severe Jason Locke. She studied the picture more closely. Judging from the cut of the clothes, she suspected the picture was old, but the date of the paper was yesterday. Then she looked more carefully at the article. It was an obituary, announcing the death of a former U.S. diplomat in a car accident in Washington D.C. It was dated a week ago.
"Who do you think sent it?" Jo asked.
"Probably his assistant," Caitlin said. "She was loyal to him, and I think she genuinely liked Hawke and Dom. She would have tried to warn us if she could."
"Jesus," Jo murmured. "What are we going to do?"
Caitlin O'Shaughnessy stared intently, her gaze clearly assessing the small blonde woman in the co-pilot's seat. "If I were to let you have Airwolf," she said at last, "what would you do with her?"
"I'd get St. John back." Jo said, not even hesitating to consider the question.
Caitlin frowned. "That kind of operation will take a full crew, a pilot, a weapons control officer and someone to go out and get him. You can't do it alone. –Even String wouldn't have tried it."
"I don't intend to do this alone," Jo informed her, "but right now I won't be able to do anything unless you show me how to fly this bird."
Caitlin still looked doubtful. Jo sighed and made one last attempt. "Look, Kate, I understand. You can't afford to tangle with the Firm anymore, and you can't put Li at risk. You're wondering right now if you can trust me to take this thing off your hands and not turn it over to the bad guys." Jo shook her head. "I wouldn't do that, it would be going against everything Dom and String believed in, but I can't just leave St. John out there. I've got to try to get him back."
The Texan's silence weighed heavily upon the air, and Jo drew one last deep breath. "Don't you see? This is our chance. –Maybe our only chance. If I take Airwolf, and they know I have her, they will be so busy looking for me they won't bother with you and Li. It will buy you the time you need to get away. And if I have Airwolf, I at least have a shot of getting to St. John. Without her, I don't even have that.
"Please Kate;" she said softly, "I need you to trust me on this…for both our sakes."
"I can't risk letting her fall into the wrong hands," Caitlin said doubtfully. "What if you get caught?"
"If that happens," Jo promised. "I'll destroy her myself."
For the first time Jo believed she saw the hint of a smile creep into the Texan's china blue eyes. "I believe you would." Caitlin agreed.
Jo looked impatiently at Caitlin. "So are you going to teach me how to fly this thing, or what?"
Caitlin chuckled softly and nodded to the stick that Jo and unconsciously been handling for the last few minutes. "I think we've already started."