'That's not going to work.' Dom cautioned Michael as he tried to loosen a wire from the mesh that made up the flat underside of his bed.

Michael gave a grunt and yelped as his hand slipped and caught on an exposed screw. He stuffed the bleeding scratch into his mouth.

'Now that had to hurt.' Dom whistled.

Michael glared at him. 'Don't you have anything better to do?'

'Nope.' Dom said cheerfully.

'Then how about helping?' Michael snapped.

'Hey! I'm a ghost, remember?' Dom pointed out. 'You're the spy.'

A low moan from the cot opposite had them both whirling around to check on Saint John. The pilot was beginning to move as he dragged himself into consciousness.

Michael laid a hand on his shoulder. 'Easy, Saint John.'

'Michael?' Saint John murmured blinking past his blurred vision to focus on the other man.

'It's me.' Michael confirmed keeping his voice low. 'You have a broken arm and some broken ribs. Just take it slow.'

Saint John groaned as he shifted into a sitting position with Michael's help. He flinched at the pain in his chest and placed a tentative hand over his ribs; another jab of pain from the arm in the sling told him that it probably wasn't a good idea to move it. He looked around the room in confusion. 'Just you?'

Michael glanced around at the empty space and sighed. Obviously Dom had decided not to stick around. 'Just me.'

'I thought I heard voices.' Saint John insisted.

'I was talking to myself.' Michael said easily. 'How's your head?'

'Sore.' Saint John said shortly. He pushed himself off the bed and swayed dangerously. Michael supported him and they made their way over to the sink where Saint John scooped water from the tap into his mouth thirstily. They made their way back to the bed.

Michael resumed his place on his own cot. 'You up to telling me what happened?' He probed gently.

'Locke.' Saint John said with disbelief. 'He turned up at Santini Air with some story about how you had made a deal with Sterling to undermine us.'

Michael frowned. 'And you believed him?'

'Yes, I believed him.' Saint John said defiantly. 'What did you expect me to do?'

'Trust me.' Michael shot back. 'And if not me, your brother.'

Saint John flushed and focused on getting through the rest of his story. 'He asked me to go with him as back-up for a meeting to get some hard evidence.' He gestured weakly. 'The coffee must have been drugged. I woke up here and then they took me for questioning.' He fell silent remembering the beating; the feel of fists and feet hitting him and Locke standing in the back watching, just watching.

'They injected you with something.' Michael prompted.

'Sodium pentathol, I think.' Saint John said. 'Some kind of truth serum anyway.'

'What did they want to know?' Michael asked.

'That's just it,' Saint John said grimacing in pain again, 'they injected me with it and then started pounding on me without really asking me anything.' He motioned at Michael. 'What about you?'

'Locke called me a few hours after grabbing you. As Sarah had already called to tell me about your disappearance with Locke…'

'Sarah called you?' Saint John asked surprised.

'She had a bad feeling and as I've learned to listen to a Hawke when they say they have a bad feeling, I took her concern seriously.' Michael sighed. 'We were just about to try and track you down when Locke called asking to meet. He didn't mention you but he wanted to talk about something he'd discovered when he'd met his contact in New York.' He paused. 'I figured it was the quickest way of finding you.'

Saint John's eyebrows shot up. 'You let yourself get captured?'

Michael stiffened at the incredulity. 'It seemed like a good idea at the time.'

'Yeah, great idea.' Saint John said wryly. 'I see you're doing a bang-up job of rescuing me.'

'Don't worry,' Michael replied curtly, 'the next time, I won't bother.'

They glared at each other.

'Where's String anyway? Didn't you tell him what was going on?' Saint John asked wondering why his brother hadn't shown up if Michael knew about Locke.

'He won't be contactable until tomorrow morning.' Michael said succinctly.

'Great. Just great.'

'If we work together we might be able to get out of this before he gets back.' Michael pointed out.

'When you have a plan, let me know.' Saint John swung his legs up on the cot and eased himself into a prone position.

'Do you think Locke's brainwashed?' Michael asked sensing the other man was about to slip back into unconsciousness.

'Of course, he's brainwashed.' Saint John snapped. 'My friend wouldn't have stood by and let them beat me to a pulp the way…' he stumbled to a stop realising he was unintentionally revealing something he would have preferred to have kept to himself.

Michael sighed. 'I'm going to give you a syringe filled with a serum that will counteract the brainwashing. Whichever one of us gets an opportunity first should use it.'

'Good idea.' Saint John said sincerely as he felt the spy slip the syringe into his jacket pocket. For the first time since his capture he began to feel some hope.

Michael subsided back onto his own cot. 'You should rest.'

Saint John gave a grunt but didn't argue. He closed his eyes.

A few minutes later, Michael cleared his throat. 'You know what I don't get.'

'That I'm supposed to be resting?' Saint John said dryly.

'Why grab both of us if they want Hawke to deliver Airwolf?' Michael frowned. 'They have to know grabbing you would have been enough to capture Hawke's attention.'

Saint John sighed. 'You're right. It doesn't make sense. Maybe they have something else planned for you.'

'That's comforting.' Michael said sarcastically.

'My pleasure.' Saint John replied. 'Can I get some sleep now?'

Michael sighed and moved to lie prone on his own bed. He closed his eye and wished Dom was with him again.