(Well, I'm still alive. In the past four months, I've been told my job was being eliminated at a place I've worked at for 11 years and had to find a new job. Been at the new job for over 2 months now and every night I come home and my brain is so fried, I have enough energy to fix supper, watch a bit of the boob tube and go to bed. Rinse and repeat.

If it wasn't for Nighshae constantly poking me to make sure I was alive and see how I'm doing, sending me little bits she'd written to keep the story alive and my creative juices flowing, this story might have sat for another year before I had the energy to get to it again. So if you are continuing to like this story, make sure to send 'thanks' her way too.)

Now, on with the story. Please read and review as it helps to keep the writer fed...I mean motivated. Enjoy!


Chapter 16

The headset came to life, "So tell me, why do they call you Red?" Michael was watching the back of her head as she flew the Guardian Angel helicopter to a destination only known to her.

There was a responding 'huff' over the line and she turned her head a little to glance at them out of the corner of her eye, "You're supposed to be the master spy. You mean to tell me there's something about me you don't know?"

Bridges spoke up with a laugh, "She's got you there, dad."

Michael looked a tad disgruntled at the fact he didn't know something that might be obvious to others. "I do know that when you were in middle school, they called you Mac since your last name was MacPhearson. I assume you changed things after meeting MacGyver since he's often referred to as Mac."

There was silence for a few moments from the front of the aircraft as it shifted its direction slightly to angle towards the ocean. "At least you're intuition is correct in that regard. I hated being called Cheyenne as a kid. Growing up around military brats, though you could consider me one as well, they learn to be hurtful and sometimes vicious with words since they don't leave physical marks. I was often looked down upon and tormented mercilessly because of my heritage. So, I started going to my teachers before the school year or just after we transferred somewhere. I'd explain why I hated being called by my given name and ask them if they'd refer to me as Mac instead of Cheyenne when doing roll call in the morning. It didn't solve all my problems but it minimized a majority of them after a while."

Michael and his son watched her closely for a moment. Perhaps it was a foreign concept to them to be harassed for having a strange name. Then again, Stringfellow was one of the oddest names Michael had ever run across at the time he'd met the man. "That doesn't explain where Red came from."

"Mmm," was her immediate response. "Maybe I should leave you two in the dark just so I can hold onto at least one secret that you don't know about me."

Bridges chuckled, "You do have a tendency to be a little too nosy for your own good at times, dad."

Michael huffed, "I am not nosy. I'm inquisitive. It's part of my job."

"Oh, that's what you call it, huh?" asked Bridges, now laughing at his father's expense.

A soft chuckle came from the front, "If you must know, my adoptive mother took me to a pow-wow when I was young at my insistence. I wanted to know more about my heritage since we didn't have anything called the internet back in the eighties. So, my mom took me and I was awed by the bright bead work and feathers, the drums and singing. But like any kid, I got bored after a while and took off to play games with a bunch of kids my age. After I grew tired and settled down, this old man approached me and started asking me questions. During the conversation, he commented to me that I was like a little red otter in how I was swift and agile, able to avoid capture in the game of tag with the other kids. But I had a sense of curiosity like an otter that could get me into trouble if I wasn't careful. By then my mom had come looking for me and was listening in. He told her before he left that she should be blessed to have RedOtter as a daughter. The nick name stuck and I used it as my call sign when I became a pilot in the Air Force. Naturally, it got shortened down to just 'Red'."

There was silence from the back cabin as both men digested what she'd told them. Finally Michael spoke up, "I think that old man could see the real you better than anyone could have imagined. When you think about it, you are like an otter. Swift and smooth in your natural element, able to do amazing things others can't. But you do have a sense of curiosity that you even admitted to last night when you talked about digging into the accidents that claimed your family's lives."

There was a noncommittal sound from the front, but nothing further was said on the matter. Bridges flipped the switch on the armrest to the headset so that only those in the back cabin could speak to one another privately. Looking over at his father after making sure he was out of Red's direct line of sight, he spoke up. "Do you have any idea where she's taking us?"

Michael gave a slight shrug, his eye flicking up to see if Red gave any indication she was aware of their private conversation. "I have a hunch but I'm not willing to voice it yet for fear of jinxing myself."

Bridges frowned slightly and then flipped the control on the headset back to include the pilot. "Back to a little bit of business Red. The information in that folder I gave you about the FIRM trying to bug your properties, give it a good read and if you need help with any equipment from snoops to scramblers, let me know. We can get you whatever you need."

"I'll keep that in mind," she assured them. "I have a scrambler for my phone up at the cabin, but not at work. I think I'll keep it that way and just make sure that no one says anything over the line that isn't business related. The FIRM might get suspicious if all their bugs kept going dead or disappearing. It might make them think we're on to them."

"True. Do what you feel you're comfortable with. Just let me know if we need to get you set up with state of the art equipment to block signals and disable any listening devices," Michael assured her as she brought them over the edge of the city and headed for the docks.

Large container ships sat in the harbor as cranes loaded and unloaded containers. Warehouses lined the docks, some of them showing signs of upkeep, while others appeared worn out or in serious need of being demolished. Large stacks of containers were placed in strategic areas waiting for delivery. Some areas were left open where containers had recently been loaded onto a ship or they had been hauled away by train or semi.

One of these areas marked out for containers was also labeled as a registered landing pad. With a quick call into the access point for permission to land and passing on the flight protocols to the local tower that were dictated to her by Bridges, she set the helicopter down smoothly amongst the towering stacks. After powering down the engines, Red pulled off her headset and opened the pilot's door to climb out while the two men got themselves unstrapped from the back.

She opened the cabin door and stepped back as they climbed out. "This place is fairly quiet on Sunday," she assured them. "It's one of the reasons Mac has the warehouse here. It's a place where he can he work on various projects when he wants some peace and quiet."

Bridges locked up the helicopter, checking his cell phone for a signal to be sure he had full access and a green light as they crossed the dock to the warehouse. Red punched in the code that opened the door, not bothering to block their line of sight then pulled the door open. "Give us ten minutes," she told Bridges, pointing a finger at him to emphasis her point. "Then you can come in. And don't be calling anyone just yet. The old man and I need to do some negotiating."

Michael's look was half hurt, half offended as his son choked back a laugh and stayed at the door while the pair went inside. The place was dark, but Red had seen the image of the helicopter in the light from the door as she reached for the lights.

The old man's look was priceless as the lights came up and he caught sight of what she had hidden there.

Slowly he made his way across the warehouse floor to where the Lady waited for him, a smile usually reserved for his son crossing his face. Someone had tried to clean her up a little but it was going to be hard to get twenty years of dust off the Lady in one sitting. Where she'd been tended to, the dark charcoal armor plating and white underbelly gleamed in the overhead lights. Unfortunately, her once fierce visage was ruined by the fact she listed to the side where her two of her tires had gone bad. Given her age, he was surprised any of them were still intact.

Taking the last few steps, he laid his hand on the long 'wing' of the aircraft and let out a shaky chuckle. "Lady, I never thought I'd see you again, and aren't we both quite a sight," he murmured, noting at once how quiet and still the aircraft was. There was no hum from the computers, so either the batteries were dead or they hadn't gotten as far as putting them back in.

Moving around the aircraft, he kept his right hand on her, his cane in his left hand as he made his way towards the tail section, his eye running over every inch of the aircraft looking for any signs of damage from her long storage. "Whoever stored her did one hell of a job," he told Red, ducking slightly to move under the tail then coming up the other side of the aircraft. "This is about the condition we expected to find her in after twenty years in storage, but it could have been a lot worse if whoever had her hadn't done things right." From that side he could finally see the old truck and trailer parked along the edge of the warehouse, and nodded to himself. "She was in there?" he asked, coming to a stop with his hand on the sleek nose of the aircraft as he motioned towards the trailer with his cane. He studied it for a long moment, then began to chuckle to himself.

"Yeah," Red replied. "Tucked away safe and sound, and no, I'm not telling you who had her or where she was. Her former caretaker didn't know anything about her history and there's no need for anyone to pester them with questions. They did what they did as a favor owed."

"Agreed," Michael stated with a firm nod, turning away from the trailer and looking in the window at the dark equipment inside the helicopter. "Have you been inside her at all?"

"A little bit, but mostly to see what it would take to get her airworthy, if possible. Gaskets are toast, anything rubber was pretty much shot." Red's look turned mournful. "To be completely honest, getting her air worthy is beyond my ability," she admitted. "She's a lot more complicated than I'm used to dealing with and if the FIRM is somehow watching my business purchases, then getting the pieces I need to do the job right could be difficult." She looked up at Michael. "So, what were you just chuckling about?" she asked.

He chuckled again. "When your father told me he had a contingency plan in place, he made a crack I thought was a joke about the Lady being 'just inside Soviet radar'. I thought he was being snarky and didn't take the comment even half serious." He motioned to the trailer again, "But that's a Soviet radar trailer," he explained, moving to look into the back of it. He looked down at the rotors lying on the floor of the trailer. "I wouldn't trust the rotors, even if you had gotten all the rotten rubber and gaskets out of her," he warned. "The technology and computer programming that went into her is beyond outdated, I'm afraid. She would need a complete overhaul to get her capable of slipping past modern radar and dealing with current spy networks."

Red turned to look at him as he talked about upgrading the tech. "How long would it take to get her back in the air?"

Planting his cane on the ground, he rested both hands on it and leaned slightly forward, looking thoughtful as he studied the old aircraft. "As a salvage job? A month or so, I think. I have a lab I created to study how the Lady would deteriorate over time and what it would take to restore her. With a quick phone call, I can put them on alert and they would be ready to start work on her within hours. They could have her back in the air by New Year's, certainly. But… Well she needs a great deal more than just some gear replacement, you understand. She needs a complete upgrade, and we need to rebuild her blueprints as we do that. They were lost when Moffet originally stole her from us."

The sound of the door opening behind them caused them to turn. Bridges entered, shutting it securely behind him before whistling softly as he looked over the decrepit helicopter. "Ouch. Looks like you've got your work cut out for you, dad."

"That's why I've had that study going," his father pointed out, then turned back to Red. "So, now we get down to the negotiating part of this deal. You have the Lady, I have the ability to restore and update her as well as outfit her with whatever armament is needed," he stated, laying out the cards on the table. "You have her well secured here, I will admit. But as you pointed out earlier, if the FIRM gets wind of you buying parts, they'll tail you and make a grab for her when you're gone, or else try to use someone you know or something you own as a bargaining chip to get you to turn her over."

Red shifted her stance as her muscles tensed. Just the thought of someone using one of her friends against her caused her to feel on edge.

Michael had no trouble reading her mood on that one. "I, on the other hand, am, ah, 'under their radar', as it were," he stated with a small smirk at the jest her father had played on him. "I also have people on the inside who can alert me if the FIRM gets wind of us having Airwolf."

She considered that as they moved to a trio of folding chairs and a table set up near the trailer. "You've got the better hand," she admitted grudgingly.

Michael's nod was genteel and graceful. "Very true. You, my dear, have both willingly and unwillingly put yourself at a disadvantage," he acknowledged gently as he sat down. "By showing me and my son where this warehouse is located, you've given up a great deal of control. We could come back later and just take her, but I would prefer not to do that."

"What's your biggest concern with her?" Red asked, though she had a good idea already.

"Her security," he stated, and she knew immediately she was right about his priorities. "Few people know how dangerous that aircraft is," he stated, his jaw tightening as he nodded towards the crippled aircraft. "I've had to live with that knowledge for nearly two and a half decades. I see it every morning when I look in the mirror. Our government would be no better securing her today than they were back in '84."

"Is that why you left it with my dad?" she questioned. "Security?"

He straightened up out of his slouch. "I was certainly accused of that," he admitted, stretching out his left leg. "And by a good many people. I never denied the accusation, because I couldn't without lying. That aircraft gives me nightmares to this day and leaves me rather torn, to be honest."

Bridges looked over at his father. "You've told me before that you've wanted to destroy her and get rid of the nightmares. But your love of flying is too great to see such a rare aircraft destroyed," his son pointed out gently, "Especially one with such ability and potential."

Red raised an eyebrow at that, watching Michael's expression as his jaw tightened up at his son's words. Clearly the man still had some issues with this aircraft and what it had done to him. "What do you suggest?" she asked softly.

"Let me call my people and get her out of here," he stated after a long moment of consideration. "Our lab is in Reno, where my headquarters are." Michael coughed slightly and seemed to suddenly appear embarrassed.

Bridges sighed softly, "What he's embarrassed to tell you is that's where I took you for our first meeting. We didn't truly know who you were then, or what kind of individual you were. That's why we felt I had to knock you out so we could fly you from Vegas to Reno to meet him. At that point in time, it was definitely safer for all of us that you not know where we were."

Red was quiet for a time, her jaw muscles working slightly at the memory of her little 'dinner date'. Finally, she took a deep breath and exhaled. "And now?"

Michael's smile slowly appeared again. "You're a Hawke. You want to fly her," he stated confidently. "You have the same look your father had when I first told him about the Airwolf project. The difference is, while he knew the mechanics, he was perfectly happy letting others do the mechanical work on her. I've heard about the aircraft collection you're working on. You might display your father's mannerisms and attitude from time to time, but how you inherited Dominic's love of tinkering I'll never know. I have a sneaking suspicion you'll want to be in on every step of her restoration."

Red blushed a little as she looked over at the sleek aircraft sitting next to them. "I have to know how she's put together to know how to fix her in the field, if the need arises," she pointed out. "But you're right. More than anything, I want to learn how to fly her."

"I wouldn't dream of keeping you out of her," Michael stated. "I can teach you what you need to know to fly her. I think you and Mike both should learn, along with Sam," he paused, noting her flinch at his words, and frowned. "Is there something I need to know about you and Sam?"

Looking back at Michael, she gave a slight shake of her head. "Only that MacGyver is against the use of guns. Having Sam learn to operate something that was meant to be used as a weapon, it makes him nervous because it paints a big, fat target on us as well. I can't speak for Sam. That's something he has to decide for himself and discuss with his dad."

Letting out a small sigh of frustration, she looked at Michael. "So, what do I get out of this besides the chance to fly the Lady?"

His eyebrows flickered up at that. "You realize you'd be first seat?"

Her gaze shifted from him to Bridges. "Aircraft commander?"

"I have some damn good training, but I was never in the military," Bridges pointed out. "However, I've been in dad's labs since I was five. I know how to get the best out of his equipment. That makes me better suited for the counter-measures and back-up pilot seat instead."

"Sam could be best suited for working with the computers of the engineering station. The environmental monitors, cameras and other sensors are all run from there," Michael added, "That is, if he decides to join the crew. If not, we'll find someone who can handle the work."

Red nodded slowly as she took this in. "You'll let me work with the reconstruction team?"

"I wouldn't dream of telling you no, though there is the issue of distance between here and the lab," Michael admitted. "But I believe that's something we can sort that out later."

Red nodded. Reno wasn't far, but it would take time to get back and forth. "How are you going to get her out of here?"

He smirked. "I've had a great deal more time to work on that problem than Hawke and Dominic did." He motioned back towards the aircraft. "If we removed the gun mounts, she'll fit into a standard truck trailer. You can leave your 'project' here in case someone did manage to find out something we haven't been alerted to yet. Plausible deniability. Your friend MacGyver found you the truck and trailer and brought it here to restore it since you don't have a mechanic's garage for ground equipment yet. We can have everything related to the Lady gone in three hours, tops."

She considered what she had, as compared to what he was offering. "What about the information we talked about earlier, that the FIRM is after?"

The question sobered him considerably. "I want to see the people responsible for what has happened to your family brought to justice, just as I hope you do," he stated. "I think we can both get that wish, but it will take some time."

She studied the old man thoughtfully then looked back at the crippled aircraft. "All right," she stated, holding out her hand. "You got a deal."


As soon as Red shook Michael's hand, Bridges was on his phone, calling in the 'cavalry'. Red moved away as he spoke to someone about details and time frame. She paced the warehouse, looking a few things over, including the interior loading docks that were inset into the floor for trucks to back right up to. They were long enough to allow tractor and trailer to sit inside with the doors closed while cargo was loaded and unloaded for storage. Sometimes the weather was bad and with the door facing the port, the last thing one wanted was rain and ocean spray blowing in and ruining one's cargo.

As Red circled back towards Michael who stood in front of Airwolf, leaning somewhat on his cane, she looked over at Bridges who had just shut his phone. "So what's the plan?" she asked as she crossed her arms over her chest, her right eyebrow rising up in contrast with the guarded look on her face.

Michael shook his head a little, "I don't know if I'll ever get used to seeing String's expressions on someone else' face." He muttered before clearing his throat, "The plan is to get a crew here within thirty minutes with a new set of wheels for her, jack up the Lady and get them changed out. It'll make moving her around a lot easier. Then we'll get her turrets off before loading her onto a truck."

Bridges nodded as he looked over at Red, "We'll make sure we take everything that belongs to the Lady and clean up any evidence of her existence, then move out. We'll leave the trailer and truck here as needed."

She gave a little snort, shifting her stance to lean back just a bit, flexing her shoulders to ease the tension that was building between them. "You know Michael. You could make life easier on yourselves. She'll fit into a cargo container without having to take off her gun turrets. It'll be tight but at least she won't bounce around a lot back there."

It was Michael's turn to raise his eyebrow, "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying, a cargo container fits onto the rack of a trailer, which hooks to a semi-tractor. The whole yard's full of all three." She gave a slight yawn, causing her to uncross her arms and stretch them overhead for a moment.

"Mac had a contingency plan in place too. We could have her loaded and ready to leave in less than ten minutes. It'd be sloppy, but we could be on the road in less than fifteen. If we had a bit of notice, we could be loaded in thirty and no one would know we were ever here." She turned to look at Bridges and shrugged. "I'm just letting you know there's always more than one way to skin a cat."

"That's good to know if we need it, but for now, we'll stick to our plan of getting her onto one of our own trucks and leaving your antique over there behind for plausible deniability."

Red nodded at that then moved over towards the door to grab hold of a large remote control, flipping several switches. The sound of motors coming to life overhead caught both Michael and his son by surprise, causing them to look up. From above, two sets of straps were lowering from the mechanical hooks of a rail line crane.

Michael looked back at Red, "What are those for?"

Red waited until the straps were far enough down before stopping the motors. She moved over to the first one and began to secure it under the front of Airwolf. "I figure while I'm waiting, I can at least get her up far enough to begin working on taking her wheels off. It'll save to wait for them to be removed once your crew gets here."

Bridges blinked but looked at his dad then shrugged as he watched her work with skills that came with practice and experience. Once the Lady was secure, she started the crane motors moving and began to gently lift the massive helicopter from the floor.

Within moments, Red had her at a comfortable height to work from and had found Mac's tool box. Slipping into a set of over-sized, grungy coveralls, she began removing the wheel assemblages.

Both men watched her, remaining silent as she worked. Finally Bridges seemed about to say something when a gentle, coded knock came at the door. Walking over, he opened the door just enough to allow two men and a woman to slip inside. The older of the two men approached Michael and nodded to him before giving Red a sidelong look as she continued to work. "We've set up a perimeter as planned to keep an eye on things, sir."

"Good," Michael told him. "And the truck?"

"At least twenty minutes out. Traffic is bad today," was the reply as the man turned to look at the loading dock inside the warehouse. The other man and woman had begun surveying the warehouse as well as the equipment inside.

Bridges motioned to the large warehouse overhead door. "They can back in there to get her loaded once the wheels are replaced and the turrets are off."

"Davis is out at the helicopter, in case we need to get you out of here quickly," the man stated. Michael nodded and moved to get out of the way as the arrival of another group of three men carrying several bags each, moved towards Airwolf. Inside three of the bags were the obvious replacement wheels.

Several murmurs went up amongst the technicians as they realized half their work was already done for them. When they brought the parts over to where Airwolf hung, Red was finishing with the removal of the last wheel.

Slipping out from under Airwolf, Red got off the floor, wiping her hands as she moved out of the way to allow the others to do their job. The man that had spoken with Michael earlier approached her and held out his hand. "Names Nelson. I knew your father, Miss Hawke. He was quite a man, and he's been sorely missed."

There was a moment of stunned silence as she looked from the hand to the man's face. Finally she shook the hand, "Thank you," was all she could manage to say.

By the time the wheels were on there was still no sign of the truck. Red had begun to shift slowly from one foot to the other, the only sign of her restlessness. Bridges seemed to be sharing similar feelings.

He startled slightly when his phone buzzed. He answered it and was quiet for a moment before swearing softly. Murmuring something before he closed the phone again, he went over to Michael. "Williams spotted a suspicious looking car he thinks is trailing him. He's got Jenkins set up to see if they're really following him or if it's something else when he loops back around for a second pass. Taylor is also out there keeping an eye on things."

"Damn," Michael murmured, looking back at where they were working to get Airwolf down to ground level and out of the slings from the crane. He looked about to say something when his own phone rang.

Shifting his cane to his other hand, he reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled it out, flipping it open to answer. Walking off a few steps, he spoke in clipped sentences that were hard to understand, his shoulders becoming tenser the longer he was one the line. He finally snapped his phone shut and turned to look at Red, his good eye blazing with frustration.

"One of my contacts at the FIRM just alerted Lydia that they've gone on high alert looking for you. Someone's tipped them off or they've seen or heard something either with MacGyver or with you in the past few days that has them nervous. Lydia says they've got agents heading to all your familiar points to find you, meaning that if anyone was following you to Mac's the other night, or watching your progress via flight plans, that may be a tail out there."

Michael paced closer to Red. "We have a Plan B, but you had an alternate solution. The sooner we can get out of here, the better."

Through Michael's entire rant, Red had remained perfectly still, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her coveralls. Her gray eyes narrowed and watched him with extreme intent before holding her hand out to Nelson. "Let me use your phone."

He looked at Michael who nodded back. Handing the phone over, she flipped it up and dialed a number. After a moment, she spoke up, "Hey Terri. It's Red. Tell Mac he better not be playing games on his computer again or I'll hide his computer cables. Can you put me through to him?"

She was quiet for a moment and then she continued in that false cheerful voice, "Hey Mac. You're not playing video games, are you?" She waited while he answered and then her shoulders relaxed. Taking a breath, she spoke in a normal tone. "Seems we need to use our emergency exit plan, but I want to use the second version we came up with." She paused, "Yeah, just like that. Call me at this number when it's good to go."

She flicked the phone shut and handed it back. Turning to Michael she motioned to the Soviet radar trailer. "We need to get her back in there with the doors closed to hide her from prying eyes while the overhead door is open. When Mac calls, we'll have only a few minutes before we can expect three trailers to arrive."

"Three?" exclaimed Michael. "What do we need three for?"

Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she smirked. "Because my dear fellow, we're going to play a shell game. The trailers will look the same as will the tractors. All three will get backed in here and the door closed. We'll have less than ten minutes to get the Lady in one, the trailer into another and the truck into a third. The weight in each will off-set anyone trying to see which load is riding lower, hoping to figure out which trailer she's in, if we pick up any tails."

She went over and began to help push the Lady back towards the Soviet radar trailer. "Then once everything is in the right trailers, you get six mix-matched cars. A blocker and a runner per semi. The semi carrying the trailer will go back to the BoneYard. Just leave it sitting outside the warehouse and the driver can take off with either blocker or runner and disappear. The semi with the truck will head towards the Oregon border. I've got the address where it needs to be delivered for some overhaul work that I can't do right now. The last one with the Lady in it will go south towards Las Vegas and then loop back north through the Sierras and Tahoe towards Reno. It's a long way around but there'll be lots of open road and truck stops to spot tails as well as places to get rid of them."

By now, everyone had stopped working and stood staring at her. "How did you guys figure this out?" asked Nelson.

"What? You've never been to New York and watched them play the shell game? Actually, if you spend any time on the streets there, you learn fast how the gangs work the business of heisting cars and property then make it disappear." She motioned to one of the others to help her get the ramp down out of the trailer.

The phone rang and Nelson answered it, made a noise of approval and flipped the phone shut. "They'll be here any minute with the trucks."

Four people helped to push the Lady up the ramp and into the trailer. Once the doors were sealed, she turned to see Bridges was having a quiet argument with his father, who was looking rather mulish as he firmly shook his head.

"What's going on?" she asked as she made her way over towards them.

"Stubborn old coot doesn't want to leave until we're ready to roll," Bridges stated crossly, meeting his father's glare with one of his own.

"Is he supposed to leave in the helicopter we flew in with?" she questioned.

"Yeah, we've got a pilot out there waiting for him."

"I want to be sure she gets out of here all right," Michael stated firmly.

"You'd serve us better back in Reno finding out what the FIRM knows or suspects," Red pointed out. Grabbing his forearm, she propelled him towards the door. "Stop distracting people, old man, and get your ass out of here."

Both men gave her a surprised look at her firmness in moving him towards the exit. "Old man?" Michael questioned, clearly offended while several people close enough to hear actually snickered.

"Would you rather I call you an old woman?" she demanded. "Listen, do you trust your people or not?"

"With my life," he answered without hesitation.

"Then prove it," she told him, eyes hard. "Get out of here and quit distracting them so they can get the job done!"

Michael stared at her then looked around before turning on his heel and pulling his arm out of her hold before heading for the door. One of the men and one woman fell into step with him. Within moments, he was gone and the sound of the helicopter firing up and taking off could be heard outside. The people around her seemed to relax a little.

Bridges sighed. "You did that very well," he told her softly. "Thank you. His concern over this thing falling into the wrong hands is enough to override his sense of self-preservation."

"Understandable, but not helpful," she told him.

A honk outside the warehouse loading dock made Red reach for the controls to raise the doors after a cursory glance around. She was surprised to see that everyone had made themselves absent from casual view for the time being.

As the doors rose, Red saw the back of three blue containers on trailers being backed into up the door by white semi tractors. As each truck got situated against the loading dock, the drivers got out and handed her the keys. Without a word, they jogged away.

Once all three were inside, Red lowered the door and motioned for people to begin working. Now that the plan was clearly explained, those in the warehouse knew what they needed to do and there was no need to discuss things further.

"Can you drive a truck like this?" asked Bridges.

"Easily," she assured him as the Lady was being pulled from the back of the Soviet trailer and pushed across the floor to be put into the far right container. Several others followed with her rotors and batteries out of the back of the trailer to make sure nothing remained to leave any trace of her behind.

Red went over to the old truck and after a few false starts, got it going and backed it up to the radar trailer. With the other's to give her a quick hitch, she was quickly pushing it back in the direction of the new trucks and it slid snugly into the middle container.

Once it was unhooked from the truck, she pulled the truck around and drove it right into the far left container. Shutting it off, she opened the driver's door as far as it would go, but had to suck in her gut and become a contortionist to get herself out.

By the time she had freed herself, everyone else had cleaned up tools, the table and chairs and made sure nothing was left behind to leave traces of their existence. Once the container doors were shut and locked, Red looked around.

"I'm driving the Lady with Bridges as co-pilot. We'll need two other drives and at least one other co-pilot for the rig taking the truck up towards Oregon. The one going to the BoneYard just needs a blocker and runner and you'll be fine for the short trip." She grabbed her Stars and Stripes hat and jacket from where she'd left them by the side door. Going to the young guy driving the one going to the BoneYard, she handed them to him. "Wear these. It's all about appearances after all," she said with a smirk.

Pulling a tan hat out of her back pocket, she pushed her black braid up under the hat. Looking at Nelson, she nodded, "I'll leave it up to you guys as to who's going to assign the runners and blockers. I'm sure they'll have Bridges number and can contact him to let him know who they are and what they look like."

Motioning for someone to open the warehouse dock door, Red climbed into the cab of the far right semi. Pushing the keys into the ignition, she looked over as the passenger door swung open. Bridges joined her as she got the seat settled to her measure, got belted in then shoved the clutch to the floor and shifted gears, easing the rig out of the line-up.

Within moments, they were heading out the front gates of the dock along with the line of other carriers and transportation companies leaving with cargo. With her hat pulled slightly down, sunglasses on and her overalls even grungier from her earlier work, she fit right in with several of the other gear jockeys. After a few blocks had passed, she noticed the red bronco and the blue sedan that were keeping up with her, either moving to the front or falling back.

After several miles out of the docks, Red looked over at Bridges. "How are we doing?" she asked, noting that he was now wearing a blue-tooth headset for his phone and looking at a laptop computer.

"So far, so good," he told her, clicking on something as they cleared the edge of the shipping district. "Turn left and head for the closest highway. Let's see what we can do to get this Lady to her new home in one piece."

With the lift of a corner of her mouth, she smirked and growled out, "10-4 good buddy."

The exasperated sigh from the other side of the truck was reward enough.


TBC -