Stringfellow Hawke scowled at the plaque above the door and wondered how he had ended up back at the Fifth Bar. It was hidden right in the centre of Washington D.C.'s political heartland and had been used for over a century for clandestine meetings and furtive rendezvous. From the outside it looked like any other upscale bar; polished wood and brass door leading into an elegant lounge with plush leather sofas and discreet booths, all in subdued lighting. From the outside, Hawke thought as he pushed open the door, it didn't look like it had changed any since his last visit, more than four years before; his last informant session as an intelligence operative for the FIRM.

His blue eyes narrowed in the darkness and he headed for the far end of the bar, tugging at the tie around his neck and feeling uncomfortable in the suit he wore. He slowed to a halt as he neared his usual seat and grimaced at the man waiting there. Old memories bubbled to the surface and he ruthlessly suppressed them. He slid onto the bar stool and gestured at the barman.

'Mineral water.'

'Yes sir.'

Hawke waited until he had been served and the barman had moved away before he picked his drink up and glanced at the man in the white suit, with only the black eye-patch detracting from the sartorial elegance, patiently sitting next to him.

'What's this about, Michael?'

Michael Coldsmith-Briggs III, the deputy director of the FIRM, raised his own drink in a silent toast. 'Thanks for coming, Hawke.'

'It didn't sound like a request.' Hawke stated unable to keep some of the resentment he felt at being summoned from coating the words.

Michael did nothing more than raise an eyebrow at Hawke' tone. He took a sip of his drink. 'Where's the Lady?' He was careful to use the nickname for the world's most technologically advanced and only mach capable helicopter; Airwolf. His deal with Hawke allowed Michael to use the machine for missions of national security whilst the FIRM tried to track down Hawke's missing brother, Saint John.

'Dom has her outside the city.' Hawke said shortly.

'How is Dom?' Michael asked. The last time he'd seen Hawke's surrogate father and mentor, the older pilot had just been cruelly betrayed by a lover. It had seemed to Michael that it had hit the older man hard.

'He's better.'

'And Caitlin?' Michael asked smoothly moving onto the third member of the Airwolf crew and Hawke's fiancée. 'I haven't had a chance to congratulate you both on your engagement.'

Hawke's icy blue gaze warmed a little. 'She's fine. She's still in LA.' There were only a couple of weeks left before the wedding and whilst he'd admittedly left most of the arrangements to his fiancée, he knew it hadn't been fair to fly off to the other side of the country and leave her to cope with all the last minute hassles alone even if she'd been understanding about it. 'How's Angelina?' He asked.

Michael smiled at the mention of his ten year old daughter who Hawke had helped him rescue from Russia. Angelina had turned him into a doting father. 'She's fine.' He sighed. 'You've heard what happened with the Challenger yesterday?'

Hawke nodded. The explosion of the space shuttle had been the main topic of news coverage since it had happened. He had worked at NASA for a while and he felt a sense of disbelief at the tragic loss.

'Did you know anyone on board?' Michael asked gently.

Hawke shook his head. 'Not personally, no.' He frowned; Dom, Caitlin, Angelina, current news…he gestured impatiently. 'I take it you didn't ask me here for small talk.'

'No.' Michael agreed readily. 'I need your help.'

Hawke took another sip of carbonated water and waited silently. Michael had been in Washington over a month trying to convince a Senate Oversight Committee that the FIRM shouldn't be amalgamated with another agency to save operating costs. The effort was taking its toll on the spy. Hawke noted the new faint lines creasing the older man's face, the way the pristine white suit seemed to hang a little looser on Michael as though the spy had lost weight, and the tension in Michael's good eye that even years of intelligence experience couldn't quite erase completely. He felt a twinge of sympathy for his friend.

Michael placed his drink on the bar and reached into the briefcase beside him. He slid a folder across the bar at Hawke. 'I need you to go undercover.'

Hawke stared at him. 'As what?'

'As a pilot.' Michael picked up his drink and watched Hawke's reactions carefully. Convincing the pilot to take a mission sometimes required the strategy of a grand chess master.

'I'm getting married in two weeks, Michael.' Hawke pointed out. 'I don't have time to go undercover.'

'Your cover was established the last time you were here.' Michael said.

Hawke took a gulp of water. He didn't like the direction the conversation was taking. 'What's this about?'

'Guns, especially rocket launchers.' Michael gestured at the folder. 'It's all in there. There was a raid on a naval base armoury a couple of days ago. It was kept quiet. We've managed to track the guns to Felix Rimmington.'

'Rimmington.' Hawke repeated the name with distaste. The man was a cold, hard arms dealer who thought only of the money he could make on a deal. Hawke's last assignment for the FIRM as an operative had been working undercover as Rimmington's pilot. 'I thought he was in jail.'

'Apparently he was released last month after an appeal.'

'They let him walk?' Hawke was incredulous.

'He'd served his time.' Michael explained.

Hawke shook his head in disbelief. Rimmington dealt in death and all he'd gotten for it was a couple of miserable years inside. He scowled ferociously. There were times he wondered if the justice system deserved the name.

'You want me to go back in as Rimmington's pilot?'

Michael nodded.

'He's not a stupid man, Michael. He'll know something isn't right.' Hawke set his empty glass on the bar. 'It took me months to get his trust the last time.'

'And it worked.' Michael said. 'More to the point, your cover was never blown with him. You were on another assignment for him in Rio when we pulled the raid in Panama.' He shifted to look at him. 'At this point, all we want is the weapons back.'

Hawke's eyes narrowed suspiciously. 'What's so special about these weapons?'

Michael turned back to face the bar and knocked back the rest of his drink. 'They're prototypes.'

'Prototype of what?'

'Armour piercing weaponry.'

'Armour piercing.' Hawke repeated.

Michael nodded. 'The ammo is specially constructed to blast through metal armour. They were developed to give us an advantage against tanks, armoured cars and battleships.'

'Will they go through the Lady's armour?' Hawke asked.

'I wouldn't recommend putting it to a test.' Michael answered forcefully. He sighed. 'All you need to do is go back in as Rimmington's pilot, find out where the guns are and tell us. We'll take it from there.'

Hawke scowled.

'Hawke, I don't have to tell you the consequences of those weapons fell into the wrong hands.' Michael sighed as Hawke maintained his silence. 'Every intelligence agency at the Senate Committee negotiations is going after these weapons, not to mention NCIS and the rest of the usual law enforcement organisations. We need this win, Hawke and you're our best chance.'

Hawke's eyebrow quirked upwards; there was usually always a second motive behind Michael's requests but he was never usually so open about them. 'How bad is it?'

'Bad.' Michael said succinctly. 'We don't have many friends in the room.'

Hawke sighed deeply as his sympathy level for his friend doubled. 'Fine but I'm only doing this for a week. If I haven't found anything out by then, forget it.'

Michael nodded. He gestured at the folder. 'Your id, documentation is all in there.' He checked his watch. 'When you have something, contact the usual number.'

'I remember the drill.' Hawke snapped.

'Good.' Michael stroked his moustache and slipped off the barstool. He threw a couple of dollars on the bar and picked up his briefcase. 'Hawke, thank you. The FIRM needs this.'

Hawke caught Michael's eye firmly. 'I'm not doing this for the FIRM, Michael.'

Michael inclined his head. 'Good luck.'

Hawke waited until the spy had exited the bar before he stood up, paid for his drink and took the folder. He stopped by the payphone and made a call.

'Dom?'

'Hey, String. It's about time.' Dom's gruff voice travelled back down the line. 'I was beginning to worry.'

'Come and pick me up.'

'On my way.'

Hawke made his way through the chilly night air to the deserted parking lot they'd marked out for the pick-up spot when Dom had dropped him off. He rubbed his hands together and pulled his jacket closer; he'd forgotten how cold it got out East in January. His head tilted. The merest sound drifted over the darkness and in the next instant, the howl of engines as Airwolf descended from the black sky. Hawke ducked under the rotors and climbed into his usual seat; Dom moved to sit at the engineer's console in the back. A moment later they were airborne again and heading away from the capital city.

'So?' asked Dom impatiently, 'do I have to torture it out of you?'

Hawke glanced back at the older man who was gazing back at him with blatant curiosity written over the craggy features.

'It's nothing to do with the Senate hearing.' Hawke said firmly.

'It isn't?'

Hawke adjusted their balance. 'No. It's not even an Airwolf mission.'

'Then what did Michael want with you?' Dom asked perplexed.

'He wants me to go back undercover.'

'Now?' Dom practically yelled the word before Hawke had finished speaking. 'Doesn't he know you're getting married in two weeks?' He grunted. 'He has to be kidding.'

Hawke sighed. 'He was serious alright.'

Dom caught the inflection in Hawke's voice. 'You told him you'd do it?' His voice rose and Hawke winced.

'I said I'd do it for a week and if it didn't work out then he'd have to find someone else.'

'And what's Cait going to say when she hears that, huh?' Dom argued.

Hawke pressed his lips together. 'She'll be OK.'

'You hope.' Dom returned smartly. He frowned at the back of Hawke's head. 'You two aren't having problems again, are you?' The couple had gone through a brief rocky patch just after they'd gotten engaged but they'd seemed to have come through it stronger than ever

Hawke's head snapped around to meet Dom's concerned stare. 'Of course not.'

'Then why take the job?'

Hawke sighed again. 'The navy lost some armour piercing weapons a couple of days ago. They tracked them to a man called Rimmington.' He paused. 'My last gig as an operative before I joined the Airwolf project was being undercover as Rimmington's pilot. I helped the FIRM get him on charges of illegal arms dealing.'

'Oh.' Dom was beginning to see why Michael wanted Hawke to take the mission. 'But wasn't your cover blown then?'

'No.' Hawke stared out at the night sky. 'Michael arranged it so they raided Rimmington in one location when I was making a delivery for him in another.'

'So this guy Rimmington thinks you're still on the wrong side of the law?'

'Yeah.' Hawke shifted in his seat. 'If I can talk my way back into working for him, I might be able to find out where those weapons are.'

'That's a big if, String.' Dom pointed out.

'I have to try, Dom.' Hawke said firmly. 'Rimmington's a smart guy. He wouldn't have stolen the weapons if he didn't already have a buyer and Michael knows that.'

'You think that's why he asked you to go back in?'

'I'd bet on it, Dom.' Hawke said. 'He knows they just don't have the time to build an op from scratch and besides, it sounds like they need to make some political capital from a success in those hearings.'

'Huh.' Dom grunted. 'Since when did you care about politics?'

'Since Michael started looking like warmed up leftovers.' Hawke muttered a little embarrassed.

Dom was quiet for a moment. 'You think those Senate hearings aren't going so well?'

'I'd put money on it.' Hawke said.

'So what's the plan?' Dom asked finally; he knew Hawke, had raised him and knew continuing to argue about whether to do the mission once Hawke had decided to do it was a waste of time.

'I'm going in alone.' Hawke said and braced himself for an argument.

'You're what?' The shout was amplified in the Airwolf headsets.

'Rimmington knows me as a lone pilot.' Hawke argued. 'I can't take the risk of him accepting someone else and besides if there's a stranger around, he's unlikely to give anything away.' He glanced back. 'I need you to stay close by with the Lady. If Rimmington even has a suspicion I'm working against him, he'll not hesitate to get rid of me. I may need you for a quick extraction.'

'I'm liking this less and less.' Dom said.

'Believe me, Dom,' Hawke said as he started scanning the ground below for a landing spot, 'I'm not real fond of it either.'

He still wasn't fond of the idea when he followed the butler into the breakfast room the next morning. His appearance had dramatically changed since his meeting with Michael the night before; he hadn't bothered to shave, had left the stubble on his chin and jaw. If he'd had the time he would have grown his own short brown hair out to a longer look; as it was, he'd left it rumpled as though he'd just climbed out of bed. The suit had been replaced with well worn jeans and a battered flying jacket; an old T-shirt hugged his torso. With the sunglasses and habitual scowl, Hawke hoped he looked like his cover, Ray Hawkins, a disreputable ex-con who wasn't averse to turning a blind eye to criminal activity.

'Sir?' The butler cleared his throat nervously. 'There's a gentleman here to see you. A Ray Hawkins?'

Felix Rimmington lowered his newspaper, his pale green eyes shooting to Hawke and narrowing thoughtfully. Hawke returned the stare evenly taking his own measure of Rimmington; he was an aristocratic looking man, nearer fifty than forty but the dark black hair was only shot through at the temples with silver and his body was in good shape despite the time in jail. Rimmington folded the newspaper crisply and got to his feet. He extended a hand to Hawke. 'Ray Hawkins. It's been a long time.'

Hawke nodded. 'Yes sir.'

'Please take a seat.' Rimmington gestured at the butler. 'Bring some more coffee.'

The butler withdrew hastily as Hawke slipped into one of the antique dining chairs that matched the beautiful mahogany table.

'Please help yourself to some breakfast.' Rimmington said smoothly.

Hawke eagerly helped himself to some croissants and jam, careful to act as though he was hungry and just a shade on the wrong side of being desperate for something to eat but not too much…too much would raise Rimmington's suspicions.

'It's been a while, Ray or do you still prefer Hawke?' Rimmington tapped a cigarette against a silver cigarette case before he lit up and blew out a steady stream of blue smoke.

'I still go by Hawke,' Hawke admitted, 'and yeah, it's been a long while.'

'How did you avoid capture in Rio?' Rimmington asked his tone betraying nothing more than curiosity.

'Luck.' Hawke said around a bite of croissant.

'You always were blessed.' Rimmington noted. He flicked his ash into a large ornate ashtray. 'Maybe if I'd had you with me in Panama I would have avoided my stay in a federal jail-cell.'

Hawke shrugged. 'I don't seem to be having the same kinda luck lately.'

Rimmington smiled. 'Is it that why you're here?'

Hawke gestured at Rimmington. 'I heard on the grapevine you were out and I'm…between positions.' He picked up the cup of coffee that had been poured for him. 'You always did right by me.'

Rimmington stared at him for a long moment before he stubbed the barely smoked cigarette out in the ashtray, crushing the tobacco. 'As it happens I need a pilot of your calibre for a trip I'm planning to take very shortly.'

'If you have a plane…I'm available to fly.' Hawke said easily.

'Good.' Rimmington motioned for the butler. 'Do you need funds?'

'Sure.' Hawke smiled. 'Who doesn't?'

'Find yourself a motel but stay close. Let me know which motel you're at and I'll be in touch.' Rimmington scribbled a note to the butler. 'Make sure you give this to Hawke on his way out.'

'Yes sir.'

Hawke stood up realising he'd effectively been dismissed. 'Thanks.'

Rimmington rose to his feet and they shook hands again. 'I'm looking forward to working with you again, Hawke.'

'Likewise.' Hawke followed the butler out and quickly took his leave once he'd been given his cash. It took him an hour to pick up some groceries and rent a motel room. He was glad when he finally closed the door of his room with his foot and dumped the brown grocery bag on the rickety desk. He'd taken a room in a cheap but decent motel. It was still pretty basic accommodation but it was clean and it was secure. He figured that Rimmington would expect him to spend some of the money on his accommodation. He peeked out of the window, his blue eyes running over the old rental car he'd hired parked outside and the forecourt of the motel. The room gave him a good view of the parking area, the motel reception and the road.

He frowned at the sight of a grey sedan parked on the opposite side of the motel. He nudged the curtain back into position, unpacked his groceries and sat down on the thin mattress of the single bed. He snagged the phone and dialled the number the butler had given him for Rimmington. He had a short conversation with the nervous man who agreed to give Rimmington the address of the motel. Hawke hung up and dialled Airwolf's secure number.

'String?' Dom's anxious voice sounded down the receiver.

'You expecting someone else?' Hawke asked.

'How'd it go?' Dom asked.

'I made contact. He remembered me.' Hawke sighed. 'He's got a job for a pilot.'

'You think it's those armour piercing weapons?'

'I hope so.' Hawke said. 'I can't see how I'm going to find them otherwise. He's a lot more paranoid about security than he was before.'

'What d'ya mean?'

'I mean his house is secured like Fort Knox. I'm not going to be able to just sneak in and see if he has the details of the deal lying around.' Hawke commented.

'That's maybe not a bad thing, kid.' Dom murmured glad he hadn't known Hawke had been thinking about pulling such a stunt when he'd said goodbye to him that morning. 'What are you going to do?'

'I think he doesn't trust me with any of the details until it happens.' Hawke said.

'So?'

'So I think I might have to wait until he leads me to the weapons.'

'Kid…'

'I think he's going to move in the next couple of days. He can't afford to wait any longer.' Hawke sighed. 'In the meantime, I'm going to have to wait around here.'

'You could wait with me in the Lady.' Dom's voice was hopeful.

'Can't.' Hawke said succinctly. 'He's got someone following me. He's pretty good; I didn't notice him until the grocery store.'

'String, I think you should just drop this whole thing.' Dom said worried.

'Dom, if I was Rimmington I'd have me followed.' Hawke said. 'He steals a whole pile of weapons and I turn up a couple of days later? If I were him, I'd be suspicious.'

'I still don't think this is a good idea.' Dom muttered.

Hawke sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. 'I need you to go home and get Cait.'

'You want me to do what?'

'If this is going down the way I think it is; I'm going to need Airwolf to back me up and she's going to need a full crew complement.'

'You may be right.' Dom said. 'But if I go back now, you're here on your own.'

'So long as I don't do something stupid I can't see Rimmington bothering me for the next twenty-four hours.'

'That's what worries me.' Dom said. He sighed. 'OK. I'll head back and pick up Cait.'

'Tell her I…tell her I'm OK.' Hawke said. Caitlin had been surprisingly understanding about his decision to take the mission when they'd spoken the previous evening but he'd heard the worry she'd tried to hide.

'She knows, String. She understood.' Dom reassured him.

'Can you call Michael and let him know what's happening?' Hawke asked changing the subject.

'Do I have to?' Dom complained. He hadn't quite forgiven Michael for giving Hawke the mission.

'I can't do it, Dom.' Hawke pointed out. 'Not without risking my cover.'

'OK, OK.' Dom sighed. 'I'll call him.'

'Thanks, Dom.'

'You just stay safe until we get back. You hear?'

Hawke smiled. There were times when he was reminded how much he loved the old man. 'Call me as soon as you're back.'

'You betcha.' Dom said.

Hawke said goodbye reluctantly and hung up the phone. He crossed back over to the window and glanced over the forecourt. The grey sedan was still parked on the other side of the motel. He sighed. So what would Ray Hawkins do next, he wondered.