Disclaimer: See part 1 -- nothing's changed!

Speech between {} is in Cantonese (though I'm figuring you've got that sussed now...)

Many thanks to Gamine, Vanessa and Kahva for patiently picking out the nits -- and also to Kahva for inspiring one of the following scenes. (She knows which one!)

Please offer feedback, it tells me how I'm doing...

~*~

At six o'clock, Eric got up. There was very little point in lying still any more. Whatever the commandos were or weren't doing, they weren't doing it any where near the main house. We're screwed, he guessed. Raid failed. So much for the commandos. Eric grimaced. Where did that leave him and Hana?

He bent over the bed and gently tapped Hana on the shoulder. "{We need to talk.}"

"{Five minutes more, mom...}"

Eric smiled in amusement. Guess me catching her dreaming is only fair. "{No, not mom, and no, you can't have five minutes more.}"

Hana's eyes flicked open and she stared at him. "{I...what is it?}"

Eric sat down on the edge of the bed. "{Commando raid didn't happen or failed.}"

Hana sat up, blinking owlishly. "{What? Are you sure?}"

Eric nodded. "{Been all quiet since you went to sleep.}"

"{You haven't slept?!}"

Eric gave a huff of not particularly humorous laughter. "{Not that it matters right now, no. We need to work out what we're going to do.}"

Hana stared, wide-eyed now. "{Do?}"

"{There was a plan B, right?}" But Hana's expression told him the answer to that question. "Fuck." Eric closed his eyes and swallowed. OK brain, start working. "{What was the original schedule supposed to be?}"

"{We're pretty much out of it.}"

Eric shook his head. "{I don't believe Peterson had no plans as to how we got out of this.}"

"{The commandos were...}"

Mentally, Eric ran through his entire vocabulary of Serbo-Croat obscenities. When he ran out of those, he started on the German ones. Then for good measure, he ran through a wide selection of American and British ones before finishing where he'd started. "Fuck."

Hana looked pale. "{What are we going to do?}"

I'm gonna kill Peterson. Slowly. "{You really don't have any other orders?}" Dumbly, Hana shook her head. "{OK.}" It was anything but. "{Then I guess we're gonna finish what we started.}"

"{How?}"

Eric smiled, hoping the expression looked reassuring. "{For now, we keep up what we've been doing. As far as Soong believes, we are what we say we are.}" Hana nodded slowly. "{You've got fight training?}"

"{A little.}"

"{OK. We can string today's negotiations out. Soong is still after me to be his broker.}" Hana nodded again. "{Then tonight, we'll put to use what we've learned about this place.}"

Hana looked doubtful. "{We will?}"

"{Hitting things would be my day job,}" Eric answered. "{Trust me.}"

~*~

Chung-Hee knocked on the door just after seven thirty. Somewhat to Eric's surprise, though the greeting was pleasant enough, there was something in it that suggested all was not as well as it had been.

"Mr Kim requests your presence," Chung-Hee stated. "He has a matter of grave importance to discuss."

Eric and Hana exchanged looks. He nodded.

"We would be honoured," Hana answered.

"{Lead the way,}" Eric said.

It was Hana's turn to nod. She opened the door to find a grim-faced Chung-Hee waiting.

"This way, please." With none of the obsequious courtesy of the previous days, Chung-Hee set off briskly.

Offered little choice, Eric and Hana followed. Eric's every last scrap of intuition warned him this was a potential trap. He was alert and ready for anything. He just hoped Hana had drawn the same conclusions.

Eric wasn't surprised to find they weren't led into the courtyard garden, or any of the other areas of the house they'd so far seen. Instead, they were led into a Spartan detention room, where an equally grim-faced Soong was waiting, as were the two 'help' Eric had noted on their first arrival at the compound, and as was someone wearing an olive-drab jumpsuit and cammo cream. The someone was chained up, spread-eagle fashion, with the two 'help' stood one either side.

"Greetings, Mr Chen," said Soong as soon as he spotted Eric's arrival. "As you can see, it seems we were paid a visit by some...little mice during the night. Regrettably, most of them escaped, but my men were able to detain this one."

Guess we know what happened to the commandos, then, Eric mused. Does Soong suspect Hana and me?

"I was wondering," Soong continued, "if you might lend me your not inconsiderable talents."

I guess I'll take that as a no.

"He is refusing to tell us who sent him and his men," Soong concluded. "I would prefer not to use the tmazacol on him. With the drug in the final phase of development and testing, I do only have a limited supply." Soong looked less than pleased at informing a buyer of this fact. "Production is scheduled to begin on Friday."

"{Tell him,}" said Eric, looking at Hana, "{that I would be delighted to assist him with this matter.}"

He saw her eyes widen just fractionally at that, though she translated the statement.

"I thank you," said Soong, bowing. "You will permit me to observe?"

Eric smiled, predatorily, even as he was thinking, I'd sooner you fucked off for breakfast. "{I expected no less.}"

Hana translated and Soong smiled. She then said, "{What are you planning?}"

Hope like hell this is someone I don't know, Eric thought. "{Extract information.}" It was a vague statement, but he didn't dare risk anything else. He wasn't entirely convinced Soong didn't at least speak some Cantonese and on that basis... "{This is what I do best.}"

Slowly and deliberately, he removed his suit jacket -- folding it and handing it to Hana once he'd removed it -- and fastidiously rolled up his shirt sleeves. Part of it was purely practical -- to do anything along these lines he needed the freedom of movement. Part of it was for show. The rest of it was to buy him some time. If it had been Wes, he could have faked a beating with no trouble. He and Wes had a sync to their thought processes -- particularly under pressure and against the odds. But this wasn't going to be Wes. This was probably some poor sap who hadn't got a clue that they were on the same side.

Slowly, Eric walked up to the prisoner, taking in details. The man was tall -- legitimately so, to judge by the way he over-topped the two help -- and willowy. There was something about the build he thought he ought to recognise, but with the cammo cream effectively obscuring any distinguishing features on the prisoner's face, he couldn't place it.

"{The help can go,}" Eric stated, as he reached touching distance of the prisoner. "{The captive is not going to be going anywhere.}"

Hana translated. Soong barked something sharp in Korean and the two help, looking mutinous, walked away.

"You have one last chance," Soong stated. "Tell me who sent you."

"No dice," the prisoner responded.

Eric was grateful that Soong was behind him. It meant that the Korean didn't see the brief look of surprise that crossed his face.

"Frank, what the fuck are you doing here?!" Eric mouthed.

Obviously mindful of the fact that Soong was probably watching like a hawk, Peterson gave a miniscule shrug. "You're in charge."

"What the fuck?!"

"Do what you do best," Peterson responded.

Slowly, methodically, Eric removed the shades that had become a stock feature of his outfit and snapped his fingers. "{Ming!}" He needed to get Hana in on this before she thought he was a complete sadist.

Smartly, Hana stepped up and took the sunglasses as Eric held them out. "{Will that be all, husband?}"

"{Yes. All will be well. Trust.}" He met Hana's gaze. He flicked his gaze to Peterson and back. "Be OK."

She gave a slight nod and stepped back.

Eric just hoped she'd got the message. He transferred his attention to Peterson. "This has gotta hurt -- sorry."

There was another fractional shrug. Peterson had probably figured that for himself. Well, you wanted to knock the shit out of him, Eric mused. At least this way, he can't throw you in the brig for it.

With that thought, he lashed out with his foot, snapping Peterson's knee like it was matchwood. Peterson screamed. Eric heard Soong and Hana both gasp behind him. Good. If Soong's shocked, he's not gonna be paying attention. The way Peterson had been chained meant that every flinch would send pain through the injured knee -- something Eric's time as bel Abis' captive had taught him -- so even if the next blows didn't land, so long as Peterson reacted, there would be a real grimace of pain on Peterson's face. Eric essayed a punch that came nowhere near landing. Peterson did flinch -- then grimaced. Perfect. The next series of blows were all pulled. They looked vicious, but none of them came anywhere close to landing. Peterson reacted as if they had.

Eric moved back a pace and twisted into a kick that, if it was at full power, could have taken off Peterson's head. As it was, it connected -- it had to -- but with the older man's shoulder, and with barely half power. Enough to maintain the charade but not enough to injure. Another set of pulled punches followed up, bringing Eric back in close.

"Taylor's coming tonight," Peterson hissed through clenched teeth. "Nineteen hundred."

"Gotcha." Eric stepped back again. "Gotta land one more for real."

Peterson gave a near imperceptible nod and Eric buried his fist in the older man's solar plexus, forcing the air from Peterson's lungs with a loud wuff noise.

"Bullshit him," Eric mouthed as he stepped back.

"Yes, sir," Peterson mouthed back.

Sir? Eric blinked. Peterson really had just put him in charge. Is that so it's my ass that gets fried? He snapped his fingers, the held his hand out. Hana stepped forward and put the sunglasses into his hand. He put them on, then turned to face his audience. Soong was nodding. Chung-Hee, who'd obviously stayed to watch the 'sport', was frowning. Uh-oh. Someone smells rat.

"{He'll talk now,}" Eric stated.

Hana translated. She looked pale, though her voice was steady enough.

"Excellent -- I thank you, Mr Chen. Chung-Hee, would you please show our guests to the courtyard for breakfast -- I am sure Mr Chen has worked up an appetite."

"I'm sure," Chung-Hee agreed, smiling falsely.

Yep, big fat rat. Eric made a show of pulling on his suit jacket. "{Breakfast would be a pleasure,}" he stated, meeting Chung-Hee's gaze. "{Vigorous exercise always makes me hungry.}"

Hana looked ever so slightly nauseated as she translated Eric's remarks.

Chung-Hee smiled again. "Of course. This way." He ushered Hana through the door but as Eric moved to follow, he blocked his path. "You're good, whoever you are, but you're not that good. You didn't touch him."

"{Didn't I?}" Eric retorted, glowering at the Korean and making use of his additional height to successfully loom over the other man.

"Chung-Hee!" Soong sounded scandalised. "How dare you insult our honourable guest like that."

"The prisoner has no mark on him. It was all smoke and mirrors."

"{Ming! Tell this imbecile that if he wishes I will demonstrate my 'smoke and mirrors' on him next!}" Eric snapped.

Hana, who had returned the second she realised something was up, translated.

Chung-Hee drew himself up to his full height in a gesture that, had Eric seen it anywhere else, would have been utterly comical. As it was, it was no laughing matter. "You could not touch me."

"{Because you could not keep up,}" Eric shot back. "{And if the prisoner truly has no mark on him, ask him to put his weight on his right knee.}"

Hana translated. Soong, who had been watching the back-and-forth turned to the prisoner and requested just that. Eric didn't need to turn to watch. Peterson's right knee was completely blown and it wouldn't be supporting the older man's weight for some time to come. The answering groan/scream from Peterson turned Chung-Hee's face white.

"But...I..."

"Mr Chen," said Soong, "if you feel the need for a little...non-terminal practice...?"

Barely had permission been granted than Eric lashed out with a stiff fingered blow to the throat at roughly half power -- enough to make breathing difficult, not enough to crush Chung-Hee's windpipe -- and followed up by a hard kick to the Korean's knee, not quite blowing the joint out in the way he'd done for Peterson's, but certainly curtailing Chung-Hee's ease of movement.

"{Smoke and mirrors. Ha!}" Eric snorted. Chung-Hee looked livid. The expression clearly said 'I will get even for that'. Eric smiled, predatorily. Chung-Hee blanched despite himself. "{I believe breakfast is now in order, if my honourable host agrees?}" Eric finished.

Hana translated the breakfast remark -- not bothering with the taunt. Chung-Hee had clearly understood the meaning if not the literal words.

Soong nodded. "I think, perhaps, I will show you to the courtyard myself. This sort of encouragement is better left a little while to sink in."

Eric inclined his head and gladly followed Soong out of the detention room, Hana practically clinging to him. That was too close.

~*~

Taylor looked at the commando leader. "He said he was going to do what?!" she finally managed.

The commando shrugged as best he could for the Kevlar body armour. "Ma'am -- I'm just telling you what he told me."

What the fuck did Peterson go and do that for? Taylor wondered. He's a freaking desk jockey! Unless... Oh crap...he's not trying to prove some sort of machismo thing... Taylor grimaced. Me and my big mouth. "If you were any sort of father it wouldn't be Eric in there." -- nice going, Taylor. Really nice going.

"What time did he say he wanted the air strike?" Taylor asked, trying to swallow back her anger. Anger directed at Peterson was wasted, while the self-ire was counter-productive right now.

"Nineteen hundred hours."

Taylor consulted with her watch. Ten o'clock. Flying time up to Soong's compound was half an hour. Give it forty-five minutes to be on the safe side. She'd need to be prep'd and ready by eighteen hundred. And God knew, Hawke-The-Immaculate-Pre-Flight had drummed pre-flight checks into her, which left her starting to prep at sixteen hundred.

Six hours, then.

"OK. Nineteen hundred it is. You boys got your ride?"

The commando nodded. "Yes ma'am."

"Then I guess I'll see you Stateside." The commando nodded, started to salute, hesitated then saluted anyway and departed. Taylor waited until he was out of sight to grin.

Six hours.

Time to catch some rack time -- and hope like hell that Peterson remembered to let Eric in on this plan. She'd not had any friendly fire incidents so far, and she didn't plan on making Eric her first.

~*~

Largely as a result of Soong's preoccupation with his prisoner, the negotiations eased off -- which suited Eric nicely. Most of his mind was taken up with planning. From what Taylor had told him about the chopper, it could come in hotter than hell. Knowing the pilot, it would come in all guns blazing. That meant he, Hana and Peterson needed to be somewhere out of the firing line.

He also wanted, if at all possible, to make sure that the poor saps Soong had turned into lab rats were either rescued or put out of their misery, though he wasn't sure which of the two options would be the bigger mercy.

The trick was going to be not tipping their hand too early.

That, and letting Hana and Peterson know what the plan was.

It was going to be a challenge -- but it was doable. It would have to be.

~*~

Kimberly lay in bed, cuddling the pillow once more. Jen's talk had done wonders as far as her mood was concerned and she felt far more positive -- though still worried -- and at least in theory, she ought to be able to get some proper sleep tonight.

In theory.

She winced as the baby kicked yet again.

"Mommy's trying to sleep," she muttered. "Think you could too?"

The only response was another kick.

Kimberly sighed. Looked like another long night. Please come home soon, Eric...

~*~

Taylor woke at the sound of her watch alarm bleeping. Sixteen hundred.

OK, rise and shine, fly-girl. Stiffly, she got up out of the pilot's seat, where she'd gone to sleep, and moved towards the aft cabin. Sure hope the commandos left me some coffee.

Even as she found the flask and poured out what was left -- which wasn't much and was decidedly tepid -- she started plotting through the mission details. She knew the compound layout, having flown recon over it they day before, and she had a pretty fair idea, on that basis, of where Eric was likely to be.

So wherever she hit first, it needed to be well away from there.

Sipping the coffee -- and grimacing at the taste, which was somewhere between motor oil and sump sludge -- Taylor sat down at the TAC station and punched up the recon recordings. "OK, lessee if we can find a nice, big, fat juicy distraction..."

~*~

Thank God for needing to 'dress' for dinner, Eric found himself thinking as he and Hana entered their room. It was nearly six o'clock in the evening, which was getting dangerously close to Taylor's arrival.

Before he could say a word, Hana rounded on him. "{How could you do that this morning!}"

"{Do you mean to Chung-Hee or to Peterson?}" Eric replied discarding the shades gratefully.

"{Both.}"

"{To Peterson, I didn't do as much as you're supposed to think -- Chung-Hee was right about that.}" Hana's eyes widened. "{I told you, my day job is hitting things -- and I've been doing it a very long time. Smoke and mirrors.}" Hana's eyes were almost saucer size now. "{As for Chung-Hee, Soong had given me permission -- and I needed to do something to give him something else to think about.}"

"{You've made an enemy.}"

Eric smiled wryly. "{Not the first time.}" He toed off his shoes and started to remove his socks. "{We leave in an hour.}"

"{What?!}"

Eric motioned to the bed. Hana sat. "{Taylor's coming at nineteen hundred. You need to find Peterson, free him and find a way out of here.}"

"{A way out?}" Hana echoed. "{What do you mean?}"

"{You and Peterson need to be out of the firing zone by nineteen hundred.}" Eric padded bare-foot across to their bag and rummaged through it until he found a t-shirt -- thankfully a black one -- and started to strip off the button down he was wearing. "{And that means you guys need to be off the estate completely. I don't know where or what Taylor's gonna pick up as a target.}"

"{What about you? And what are you doing?}" Hana asked.

"{Have you ever tried sneaking around in a white shirt in the dark?}" Eric asked, somewhat rhetorically. He pulled the t-shirt on over. "{As for me,}" he continued, tucking his gun into the waistband of his pants at the small of his back, "{there're the labs underneath this place and Soong to take care of.}"

"{On your own?!}"

Eric smiled. "{Probably not completely on my own.}"

Hana lifted her eyebrows. "{One of the people in the trials?.}"

Eric nodded. "{Our friend George,}" he said.

"{You think he's going to help you after...}"

Eric's mouth compressed into a thin line. That had crossed his mind. "{Have to try.}" He looked at his watch. Six o'clock. Dead on. "{OK. You know what you're doing?}" Hana nodded. She didn't look over thrilled with it, but she understood. "{You've got an hour -- don't worry about me. Just make sure you and Peterson are off this estate.}"

"{Got it.}" She stood up and headed for the door. "{Good luck.}"

"{You too.}"

Then she was gone. Eric mentally crossed his fingers that she could do what she needed to. He counted ten, giving her a chance to get well away from the room, then slipped out of the room himself. Time to go to work.

~*~

Taylor's watch bleeped again, indicating the hour. Eighteen hundred. All systems were checked out, the course was plotted, the weaponry was primed and ready.

Taylor drew in a breath and let it out, slowly.

Time to go.

She settled into the right seat and flipped the ignition switches down in sequence. With a low, throaty growl, the first turbine cut in. The growl became a whine as turbine two cut in. Rotor speed came up and gently, Taylor eased the craft off the ground.

Fifty feet. A hundred. A hundred and fifty feet and she was just clear of the tree line. Stay low -- no sense in attracting attention. She reached two hundred feet and hovered a moment, then smoothly sent Airwolf forwards. The cavalry is on its way.

TO BE CONTINUED...