(Well, things are picking up because I have got someone helping me co-write parts of this now. I find it hard at times to write from certain view-points or personalities. I would like to thank Nighshae for her assistance. (Go check her stuff out. She's good ;) ) Most of Archangel and Michael Bridges is now her. I do a little fine tuning of what she writes but otherwise, that is pretty much her stuff...and boy has it got my creative juices flowing. So expect more regular updates with a store that begins to move a bit more quickly :) Thanks everyone who has hung in there and is still reading. It is greatly appreciated! Read and review if you like, otherwise, I at least hope you enjoy the ride.)
Chapter 12
"You've been awful quiet Red," came Rachelle's voice through her headset. "Everything ok?"
Looking across the cockpit at her manager, Red forced the corner of the left side of her mouth up in a semblance of a smirk, "Yeah." Reaching up, she rubbed her forehead a little to try and ease the growing tension headache that had nothing to do with the business. "I've just had my fill of noise and people for awhile. Kinda looking forward to a few days at the cabin before heading to the Bone Yard."
Rachelle looked concerned as she continued to stare at Red, the chopper heading on a north-eastern vector to the cabin. "You sure?"
Red nodded and smiled tiredly, "I'm sure. Just looked at too many accounts and numbers the last few days. I need a few days to process everything without all the background distractions."
Rachelle chuckled, "Glad to have me back?"
That made Red laugh a little, "Boy am I ever. That's why I pay you the big bucks. You take care of things I would probably toss my hands up in the air over and go screaming insane because of."
That caused Rachelle to burst out laughing. "Just remember that when my next review comes up." She banked the chopper to the west and the beginnings of Eagle Lake came into view. She watched as Reds' shoulders relaxed some as they flew closer to the cabin. She got the sense that something else had happened while she was gone but she had learned early on in her working relationship with Red not to push for answers. She'd find out in time what was bothering Red or it would pass and wouldn't be an issue for long.
Once they reached the far eastern edge of the lake, it only took a few minutes before the cabin came into sight. "Just land on the dock. I'll jump out and you can get back home and spend some time with Erica."
Rachelle knew something was bothering Red now. She was in a hurry to disembark and be alone. If that wasn't a neon sign saying something had happened while she'd been away, she didn't know what else was.
"Sure. Give me a call if you need me to come get you for anything. Lex will be back tomorrow and can either relieve me to retrieve you or can do it himself." With that said, she brought the chopper to land with the passenger door facing the main side of the dock.
Red nodded and grabbed her duffle bag from behind her seat. "Sounds good. I might pull the Maverick out of the shed and fly to the Bone Yard if I need to get down there for some reason."
Rachelle gave a shudder, "I don't know how you can stand that thing. There's no way you'd ever get me up in one of those Ultralights."
"Oh come on Rachelle. They're a blast. You should try it some time." Red knew how much Rachelle hated the Maverick 2 Legend Ultralight she'd bought a few months. She stored it at the cabin to use in case she needed to get somewhere fast. But after Rachelle had read up on them and found out about the number of the accidents and deaths that had occurred due to Ultralights, Red doubted she'd ever get her up in one.
The other woman scowled at her, "At least call down to the hanger and let us know if you're going somewhere in it so we can come looking for your body when you don't show up after a few days."
Red didn't respond to that other than to laugh as she shut the chopper door. She ducked a little as she moved out of the range of the rotors. She stood there for a minute after Rachelle took off, watching as she flew back the way they'd come before turning and heading to the cabin.
She had a lot of thinking to do while she waited for word from Mac that a certain cargo had been retrieved and secured.
The mantle clock chimed 11:00 pm and Red found herself still wide awake, aimlessly wandering the floors of the cabin. She was lost in thought about things Hank had told her, mainly her grandparents and the few things he mentioned about her father. This brought her around to stand and stare at several paintings painting's that were illuminated in the faint glow cast by the lights set up to display each masterpiece.
With a sigh, she looked out the window at the dark beyond the lead glass windows. Moving to the curtains, she pulled them shut and decided that if she couldn't sleep, she would pull out her fathers' journals to go back over some of the details and specs about The Lady that he'd left in them. Getting down on her hands and knees, she opened the cupboard under the silver cabinet and fished around in the back until she felt the small knothole up near the top that she could get the tip of her finger in.
With a little work, she got the slat removed. There was no true secret compartment back there but when she'd been cleaning out and organizing things after she'd moved in, she'd noticed the loose board and upon removing a few small finishing nails, found that it was hollow behind it. It was just the way the cabinets had been built into the house and it had created a small pocket of space, large enough to hold a handful of journals and a few other odds and ends if need be.
Reaching in, she felt the crinkle of a plastic bag and drew her hand back in surprise before realizing that she'd put the bag in there herself. Pulling it out, she remembered that it was what appeared to be her fathers' Airwolf jacket that Michael had left draped over her back at the air show. When she'd awoken that next morning, she'd hastily shoved it under the covers before Rachelle saw it, only to retrieve it after she'd been left alone to take her shower. She'd rolled it up and shoved it into a plastic grocery sack, before putting it in the bottom of her duffle bag. Upon her return home, she'd been so busy with the positive aftermath of the air show that she'd hid it in with the journals to deal with it at a later date and promptly forget about it as other things became a priority.
Forgetting about the journals for a moment, Red sat back against the cabinet and carefully opened the bag. Pulling out the gray jacket that months before she'd carelessly tossed aside, she now took the time to take a closer look. Smoothing out the wrinkles it had acquired inside the secret compartment, she got her first detailed look at something that had once belonged to Stringfellow.
Pulling her knees up in front of her, she draped the jacket over them, sliding her hands over the gray material and tracing the intricate stitching of the patches sewed to the shoulders. The patch on the front left breast pocket simply read 'Hawke'. Carefully, she picked it up and held it to her nose, breathing in slowly to see if she could catch any scent from years long gone. Closing her eyes, she focused on the faint hint of things she smelled.
Aftershave and soap were the strongest of the scents still lingering in the lining. Gunpowder was the next that caught her attention followed by that of sandstone and scrub sage. There was a hint of pine, perhaps a touch like that of rosin from a bow but good rosin was made from pine sap. She exhaled slowly then took another slow inhalation of the material. There was something else in that mixture of scents that had caught her attention. It smelled organic with a hint of a copper overtone. Blood perhaps.
Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked at the garment draped in her hands, then sighed. It told her more about her father than any amount of describing could. Hesitantly, she began to explore the rest of the jacket. Unzipping pockets, she found nothing inside them until she opened the jacket and felt the inside breast pocket.
Something thin shifted inside between the linings and her fingers reached in, carefully pulling out a cream colored business card. It was bent and curled from rolling the jacket up but still looked fairly new. Flipping it over to see the other side, she found written in gold letters:
Guardian Angels
870.682.9863
Red knew a satellite phone number when she saw one. Holding the card up to the light, she noticed that nothing else marked the heavy cardstock.
It didn't take a genius to know right where this phone number led to but the question remained as to how secure was it. Was Michael Bridges one of these 'Guardian Angels' or was this strictly from Archangel?
Putting the loose board back into place, she shut the silver cabinet back up and gathered up the jacket before heading over to her desk. She draped the jacket over the back of the couch on her way past then pulled out her own satellite phone. With her paranoia spiked from the find two days ago, she set the phone down, pulled out a black box from a bottom drawer and opened it, plugging a cord from inside into the bottom of the phone. Flipping a switch, she waited for a small light in the box to turn green before picking up the phone and dialing the number.
The phone was answered on the second ring. "Guardian Angels, this is Katie, how can I help you?"
The question caught Red by surprise, making her to pause for a moment as she worked out what she was going to say. "I need to speak with Michael," she stated.
It was Katie's turn to pause. Red's keen ears caught the sound of a soft click on the other end of the line. Was she being recorded or had the line been switched over? "May I ask who's calling and the subject of this call?" the woman questioned, her tone polite but Red could sense a touch of steel buried in it.
Red considered the click she'd heard and the change in the woman's tone. If Archangel was having his calls screened, what would get his attention most? And if her reply was being recorded, then she needed to give him enough to recognize her voice. "My name is Hawke," she told the woman, her voice dropping into her slightly gruff military cadence. "And I'm calling about a Lady."
Those were words he thought he'd never hear again and Archangel recognized the voice at once. Nodding to his assistant, he turned back to his office, heading for the old oak desk. He could hear his assistant in the other room responding to Red while he got himself situated.
"One moment please."
Taking up his phone, he placed it into a special cradle, noted the green light and hit a button, switching from the front office line to his personal extension that was more secure and heavily encrypted. "This is Archangel. Miss Hawke, it's a pleasure to hear your voice again."
There was a slight grunt from the other end of the line that sounded vaguely like one her father used to make when he wasn't thrilled about something. "I wish I could say the same but this call isn't for us to have a social chat. I found your card. We need to talk, privately."
Archangel's breath caught in his throat a moment, and he cleared it before speaking. "I take it from your comment that you've found something?"
"I haven't found anything. I was hoping to talk to you alone, without Bridges around." Her voice still held an edge, perhaps her emotions running a bit strong as she remembered the last time she'd met him.
"I think that can be arranged," he said as he set about tracing her location through his computer. It didn't take long for the reading to come back and he smiled sadly at the memories that quickly surfaced. "When and where would you like to meet, Miss Hawke? I would prefer somewhere secure, such as your fathers' cabin or there are a number of other neutral locations we can meet at." He decided it wouldn't do for her to be aware that he knew exactly where she was.
"I'm not sure yet. But I'll call you when I've decided when and where," was her immediate reply. "I take it I can reach you at this number at any time?"
"Always. We have your phone number in our system now and you'll be routed straight to my private line. I hope that you have taken precautions in securing this call from your end?" he asked, noting the readings he was getting with amusement that showed that she was.
There was a slight snort on her end of the line, "After what happened a few years ago, I did a lot of reading in my down time and became a fast learner in the art of CYA. I think I've got things covered on this end."
Archangel smiled. The more he spoke with her, the more he realized that certain things were truly hereditary, and apparently Stringfellows' mannerisms were one of them. "You're very resourceful, Miss Hawke. But if I might ask, what is CYA?"
"I think you know Michael. I'll be in touch," she replied with a slight smirk to her tone, then hung up.
As the line went dead, Michael sensed that she was withholding information, something important. His heart rate quickened slightly as he let his imagination fill in the blanks that he could only hope would be true. Settling further into his high backed chair after hanging up his phone, he thought about how she sounded so much like her father, even though she'd never known him.
Hawke and Santini's death had hurt him more than he would ever admit to anyone. Cait's death had just added to the wound and if it hadn't been for his own child, he might have let the Firm take him out when they made the play for Marella and himself.
One by one, everyone who had been associated with Airwolf had been taken out of the picture. The drunk driver had been literally too drunk to have driven the car that had killed Hawke's son and the child's mother, and St. John had been too good a skier and too wilderness savvy to have gone down that unbroken trail and gotten caught in an avalanche. The only death he could positively declare had been exactly what it seemed had been the death of Le Van Hawke in Flight 93. Not even the Firm would have gone that far, but the others? Yes, all the evidence pointed to those with any connection to Stringfellow Hawke being picked off one by one.
The loss of the Lady hadn't settled his nerves any, even when he knew for sure that the Firm hadn't found it. It had been a month after his 'death' before he'd been able to get out to the Lair to recover it, only to find it gone. Any remaining traces had been wind swept away. Whoever had removed her had done a good job and gotten there fast. No clues had been left behind to indicate who had her or where she'd been taken, and the few things Hawke had told him had led him nowhere.
Turning his seat, he looked out over the bright lights of Reno, somewhere he'd never have thought to live, which had made it the perfect place to settle, especially after Michael the fourth had grown old enough to start his own career. He would call his son in the morning and let him know to have their people keep an eye out for Miss Hawke just in case she had something that needed to come his way.
All in all, he'd been lucky. He'd made good money with the danger pay he'd gotten in his youth as a spy, and he'd made good investments. His 'tinkering' in electronics and aviation had brought in more money to invest, so he'd had a good nest egg to fall back on when he'd quietly slipped out of sight after his 'death'. But, it would have run out in a few years if it hadn't been for 'Guardian Angels'.
His specialized niche in the market put him in contact with all sorts of people, mainly people who were in dangerous lines of work but wanted their families kept out of the line of fire. Pulling together some of his most trusted 'Angels' as they left the Firm, he started the business first as a front, then got more serious with it as time went on. Now he had 'Angels' all over the US, guarding the families of some of the most prominent politicians, military personnel and businessmen in the country. A majority of his Guardians worked overseas in Europe and Asia, letting him keep his fingers on the pulse point of the world. Most of his employees had never heard of him, only communicating to the corporate offices through the staff that oversaw each division. For those employees that had heard of the 'Archangel', most considered him as a mythical figure, spoken of with a grin and wink as they went about their daily jobs.
Katie came in, a fresh cup of coffee for him in her hand, with a file folder under her arm. "Here's the file on Miss Hawke," she stated, handing both over.
He nodded, accepting the file and laying it down, then set the mug next to it. "Thank you, Katie. Tell Jacob in the morning that I'll be needing him on standby. I have the feeling I'll be heading back to California in the next day or two. I'll let Michael know in the morning."
"Yes, sir. I'll let the staff in the LA office know they should expect you in," she told him, and headed out as he let out a dry chuckle.
The file he opened wasn't actually about Cheyenne 'Red' Hawke, but rather about the people that the Firm had trying to tail her movements. According to the few agents he still had contact with, some of those sent to follow her were pretty good, but it seemed they were having some issues. The main one was that few of them knew how to fly. When it came to tracking someone who spent more time in the air than on the ground some days, they were having some definite problems.
Another was that no matter what kind of 'bug' was placed in the 'Stars and Stripes' hangers or up at the 'Bone Yard', they were neutralized before they could be of any use. It wasn't as if the devices had been removed, they just had a tendency to stop working within hours of being placed with no explanation as to why. However, it was believed that the phones on both locations were being monitored.
As for getting one into her cabin, the file noted that the Firm considered the distance too great to get any type of reception for downloading information from listening devices or cameras for useful real-time responsiveness. After several attempts with different devices and technology, it was given up as a lost cause and the devices were removed. When it came to secure locations, few were more secure. It always made for the perfect place to meet, even now.
In general, the Firm seemed to believe that she had little to no knowledge of Airwolf or what had happened to it. In the time since her recovery from the crash, even with the coverage they had on her being 'spotty' at best, she was on the way to falling off their immediate radar.
He read through the file twice then rose, yawning. It was time to get some sleep and see where things went in the morning. Leaving his office, he let Katie know that Red should be directed to his phone no matter when she called before he headed up to the penthouse suite at the top of Guardian Angel's headquarters.
For the first time in a long time, he went to bed with some hope that maybe someone was finally close to finding the Lady.
Red mock-glared at the phone when she'd hit the 'end' button to hang up the call to Archangel. "Men," she muttered to herself as she left the phone on the desk, hooked up to the scrambler and charging. She was hoping tonight was the night that Mac and Sam were able to move The Lady to her new location. If not, it would be tomorrow night. There was no moon tonight and with the possibility of sleet and freezing rain forecasted for early tomorrow morning along the coast, most reasonable people would already be inside for the night and the roads would be fairly empty.
Stretching, she felt several of her vertebra pop and with a yawn she went to the fireplace, tossed a few small logs onto the fire. Pulling a comforter out of a storage bench under one of the windows, she moved over to the couch and stretched out on it, curling herself up, facing the fire.
She let her mind wander from thought to thought as she relaxed while watching the flames flicker with their hypnotic dance. She soon found herself constantly yawning, her eyes growing heavy as the cabin made small settling noises and the hushing sounds of the wind in the pines outside lulled her to sleep.
It seemed as if she had just closed her eyes when her phone rang, startling her awake. Sitting up, she stared over the back of the couch at the desk, blinking blurrily at the pre-dawn light coming from behind the curtains. The phone rang again and she struggled to get untangled from the comforter and off the couch, trying to reach the desk.
Fumbling with the phone she managed to find the 'answer' button before it could ring again. "Hello? Hello?" she said, still working to get her brain to engage.
"Red, it's Sam," came a sleepy sounding voice from the other end.
"Morning," was all she could manage at the moment, her brain still sluggish with lack of sleep though her heart rate was still spiked from the adrenaline of the quick wakeup.
"Yes, it is," came the smart-assed answer from Sam. "Look, I'll make it quick. Dad and I are in desperate need of showers and sleep, and maybe not in that order at this rate. We got everything shifted around and where it needs to be for the work you wanted done."
Red felt her muscles relax as she leaned on the desk, "So what's this going to cost me?"
"Don't know yet. Dad's inviting you up to supper on Thursday. Come up and bring the camera mount with you as he has parts and will show you how to fix it this time so he won't have to do it again."
Her brain finally clicked that Sam wasn't on a secure line even though she knew she was. "All right. Weather permitting, I'll be there Thursday morning as I have a shoot to fly for on Friday afternoon."
"I'll let dad know. See you Thursday morning." He grew quiet for a moment then finally spoke up. "Miss you hon. I think I'm done with any journalistic photo work for awhile. I can fly back home with you once we're done up here."
She smiled softly, her cheeks warming with a soft blush. "Miss you too Sam. Maybe I should just hire you so you can do photo work for me." She grinned at that but continued without waiting for him to respond. "Can't wait to see you. Now go get a hot shower and some sleep. Be safe."
With that, Red hit the 'end' button and set the phone back down. Going back to the fireplace, she threw another few logs on the bed of coals and stoked it as she listened to wind from the north, pick up outside. Winter was knocking on her door and she needed to start making plans about her time up here for the next few months. Things were a bit different this year than last year with the 'Bone Yard' as well as the new contract with the movie company. But whatever happened in the next week, it would most likely change things even more.
TBC -
