'Sir, there's a Sarah Hawke on the line for you.'

Michael frowned at the phone. He had settled in for a long session reading a stack of intelligence reports; his jacket was hung carelessly on the back of his chair, his shirt sleeves were rolled up and his tie loosened. The coffee in the china cup on his desk had long gone cold. He wondered what Hawke's sister could possibly want; there was only one way to find out. 'Put her through, Gail.' A moment later, he heard the click as the line switched. 'Sarah?'

'Michael, I'm sorry to disturb you but I didn't know who else to call.' Sarah hurried out the apology.

'That's OK.' Michael said calmly. 'What's the problem?'

'It's Saint John.' Sarah said trying hard not to feel like she was telling tales out of school. 'He disappeared a little while ago with a friend of his and he hasn't come back yet. I know I'm probably over-reacting but he did say he'd be back a couple of hours ago and…' she closed her eyes and hoped he wouldn't laugh at her, 'and I have a real bad feeling.'

Michael leaned forward, his own senses suddenly on alert. 'Well, I've learnt it's never a good thing when a Hawke has a bad feeling.'

Sarah took a deep breath in relief. 'So you believe me?'

'I believe you.' He assured her. 'Do you know who the friend was?'

'Jo said his name was Jason Locke.'

Michael froze. 'Are you sure?'

'Yes.' Sarah frowned. 'Something's wrong, isn't it?'

'No, no.' Michael hastened to reassure her. 'I'm sure it's fine. I just thought Locke wasn't in LA right now. Look, do you know where they went?'

'No,' Sarah admitted, 'but I do have the license plate number of the car they used. Will that help?'

'It will.' Michael jotted it down as she reeled off the combination of numbers and letters. 'That's great.'

'Is there anyway I can help?' Sarah asked anxiously.

'The best thing you can do is sit tight.' Michael advised. 'I'll follow up on this but I wouldn't worry, it's probably nothing more than Saint John and Locke getting a little delayed.'

'And what about my bad feeling?' Sarah pointed out.

'Well, in case that's true, I'm going to send an agent over to stay with you. It's purely precautionary just in case something is wrong.' Michael said.

'Right.' Sarah's disbelief was clear.

'I'll be in touch.' Michael promised. He hung up before she could say anything else and glanced at his watch. There was a chance that he might be able to catch Hawke before the communications black zone if he hurried. He left his jacket and paused only to snag his wooden cane from the side of his desk before he charged out of his office. He stopped to order Gail to make the arrangements for one of their operatives to perform bodyguard duty at Santini Air before he raced to the control room. He wasn't surprised to find Marella there consulting with their expert on Airwolf's computer programming, Karen Hansen.

'Michael.' Marella looked up and smiled at him assuming he had come for a progress report. 'You'll be pleased to know everything is proceeding as planned.'

'I need to contact Hawke.' Michael said without preamble moving to stand next to her.

Marella's brow creased in concern. 'They entered the communications black-out zone a couple of minutes ago.'

'Damn.' Michael muttered. He sighed realising the interested looks he was garnering from the technicians around him. 'I need to speak with you.' He ushered her into a nearby briefing room.

'What's going on?' Marella asked worried at his evident agitation.

'Locke just turned up.' Michael informed her brusquely.

'Where?'

'Santini Air.' Michael said leaning on the polished table. 'Sarah called. Apparently he turned up and made off with Saint John. They were supposed to arrive back a couple of hours ago but haven't arrived back yet hence…'

Marella nodded understandingly. 'Was Saint John under duress when he went with Locke?'

'It doesn't look like it.' Michael sighed, his good eye meeting Marella's dark gaze. 'Sarah had a bad feeling about it and if her bad feelings are anything like Hawke's…'

'Then Saint John's in a lot of trouble.' Marella murmured. She folded her arms across her white silk blouse. 'You think Locke has been compromised.'

It was a statement not a question but Michael nodded anyway. 'I think so.'

'Any clue as to where he took Saint John?' Marella asked.

Michael handed her the note on which he'd scribbled the license plate. 'Sarah got that.'

'Clever girl.' Marella noted.

'She is a Hawke.' Michael said wryly. 'We need to track down where...'

There was a sharp rap on the door and Karen stuck her head into the room, her red bob swinging around her chin. 'Michael, sorry to interrupt, but your office is routing an urgent call for you to this phone.'

The conference phone on the table began to ring as she finished and Michael dismissed her with a brief word of thanks before he picked up. ' Archangel.'

'I have Agent Locke on the line for you, sir.' Gail said.

Michael stiffened and mouthed 'Locke' at Marella. 'Put him through.' He said to his assistant as he shifted so Marella could listen in to the conversation.

'Michael.' Locke greeted him calmly.

'Locke, I was getting worried.' Michael replied guardedly.

'I know I'm sorry about that but I received some information from my meeting with Sterling's man that I needed to check out.'

'Without reporting in?' Michael said sceptically.

'It concerned the Hawkes.' Locke sighed. 'Look, we need to meet and discuss this; it's bad.'

'Do you want me to come to New York?' Michael asked pretending to be unaware of Locke's whereabouts.

'I'm in LA.' Locke replied.

'Where?' Michael scribbled the address down on the pad of paper Marella handed to him. 'When?'

'An hour from now. I'll be outside the café having coffee; join me. Come alone.' Locke said.

'I'll be there.' Michael promised.

The dull tone signalled Locke had hung up.

'It's a trap.' Marella said.

'Undoubtedly.' Michael brushed his moustache with a finger as he considered the address; a busy street in downtown LA. 'He's obviously unaware that I know about his trip to Santini Air.'

'If Locke has been compromised,' Marella continued, 'this has to be Sterling making another play for Airwolf.'

'Agreed.' Michael pointed at her. 'He grabs Saint John first…'

'So he has a pilot.'

'And then me.' Michael frowned. 'Why?'

'So there's nobody to rein in Hawke.' Marella suggested. 'Maybe even as an additional incentive for Hawke to deliver Airwolf.'

'There is one way to find out.' Michael noted. He checked his watch. 'I'd better get going.'

'I'll arrange for back-up to go ahead to the meeting site and for your car.' Marella said.

'No back-up.' Michael said.

'Michael…'

'He wants me there alone and I'm not placing Saint John at risk; Hawke would kill me himself.' Michael pointed out. 'Besides our best option of finding Saint John is for Locke to take me wherever it was that he took Saint John.'

Marella sighed. 'At least wear a tracer.'

'Agreed.' Michael looked at his watch again. 'I'll meet you out front with the car in…fifteen minutes.'

She nodded.

It didn't take Michael long to change into casual clothes; his all-white garb was too obvious for a supposedly inconspicuous meeting between two spies on an ordinary street. His jeans felt a little stiff and unfamiliar, as did the checked shirt and light jacket but Michael pretended not to notice as he made his way out of the front door.

Marella pushed off the beige sedan. 'Are you sure about this?'

'I'll be wearing the tracer as soon as Hawke exits Russia, contact him. Airwolf can track me down if we haven't managed to affect an escape ourselves.'

'But will you still be alive by then?' Marella said worriedly.

Michael rested his hands on her shoulders and pulled her in for a quick hug. 'They want Airwolf; they'll have to keep us alive if they want Hawke to deliver her.'

Marella returned his hug. She knew he was knowingly walking into a trap; knew that he had done so before as an operative and that she had to trust in his ability to stay alive no matter how much she wanted to plead with him to stay. She stepped back. She reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a watch. Michael replaced his with the one she held. She handed him the car key and reached back into her pocket drawing out a small leather case. 'I took the liberty of procuring this.'

'The anti-brainwashing serum.' Michael noted.

'If Locke has been brain washed and not just turned…' she shrugged and pushed her hands into her pockets. 'It might help.'

'Thank you.' He leaned forward and brushed his lips lightly over hers. 'I love you.'

'I love you too.' Marella said her voice choking with unexpected tears.

'Tell Angelina…' Michael sighed; he had no idea what he wanted her to tell his eleven year old daughter. 'Tell her I love her and will be home soon.'

'I'll tell her.' Marella promised.

Michael gave her another kiss and got in the car. He wouldn't say goodbye to her; it wasn't goodbye. A moment later he was driving away. He glanced in the rear view mirror and his heart skipped a beat; she was stood watching his car disappear.

He made good time to the meeting location, only stopping to secret the serum on his person. He parked the car down the street and walked up to the café. He could see Locke was already sat outside waiting, reading a newspaper. Michael scanned the area with the experienced eye of skilled operative. There was no sign of Saint John but he would bet any money that the two goons on the table next to Locke were there for additional incentive for Michael to cooperate. He pretended not to notice them as he slid into the available chair at Locke's table.

Locke snapped his paper and folded it. He placed it on the table as a waitress placed two cups of coffee down in front of them. 'I took the liberty of ordering.'

'Thank you.' Michael said.

'You really did come alone.' Locke said his dark eyes sliding over the busy street. 'I'm impressed.' He took a sip of his drink.

'You mentioned you had sensitive information.' Michael said picking up his coffee.

'I know about your deal with Sterling.' Locke said.

Michael frowned. 'What deal?'

'You really thought nobody would find out about it.' Locke said with a humourless laugh.

'I really don't know what you're talking about.' Michael said stiffly taking another gulp of coffee.

'Sure.' Locke reached into his pocket and brought out a photo. 'You care to explain.'

Michael looked at the picture. It was of himself and Sterling taken at a charity gala dinner in Washington at the start of the year. Sterling had been a guest of honour; he'd been told to attend by the Company. He hadn't realised they had been pictured together. 'I spoke with him for a sum total of two minutes, Locke. It was a charity event.'

'And yet in all the time we've known Sterling was behind the attacks on the Airwolf team, you never felt it relevant to mention you know the guy?' Locke asked in disbelief.

'Like I said, I barely said two words to the man at a dinner attended by over three hundred Washington digni..dignitaries.' Michael frowned at his slurred speech and looked down at his coffee. His eye snapped back to Locke. 'You drugged it.'

'You've been out of the field too long, Michael.' Locke said with a sigh raising his own cup with smug satisfaction.

Michael knew he should make some attempt to get away to make the meeting believable from Locke's perspective. He staggered to his feet and took a stumbling step away from the table. His legs wouldn't work properly and he almost fell. Locke caught him and he could dimly hear him tell the other diners that his friend wasn't well. Michael tried to think through the fog…did Locke truly believe that Michael had made a deal with Sterling or was the other man brainwashed? It was his last thought before everything went black.