(I'm not dead. Seriously. I'm not. When I last updated for Chapter 16, I had just gotten a new job after being let go from a former job I'd been at for 11 years. That was the worst job decision I'd ever made in my life! I have since left that job after finding a fantastic position that has caused a significant decrease in my stress level. I also left the convention I'd been working for almost two and a half years when the owner went off the deep end. After I left, I suddenly realized I had been letting someone else dictate my time for that entire span of my life. What a horrid realization. But now I'm free!
I'd again like to thank my beta Nighshae for being there this whole time, encouraging me, listening to me rant and rave about stupid stuff in my life and helping to keep me going forward with this story. This chapter is the second to last for this 'book'. I hope you stick with me because the last chapter will be worth it and the next 'story' is when the real action begins!)
Chapter 17
Trusting the aides on either side to keep him steady, Michael headed as quickly as possible back to where the helicopter was waiting for him, its engines starting as they came into sight. Looking ahead, he could see Samantha in the back, headset on as she waited inside, and let the pair with him double their speed. Moving this fast was hard for him, but with their help, he was quickly ushered into the back of the aircraft, Samantha steadying him as he half stumbled into the waiting seat. The pair helping him got the doors closed before moving out of the way, letting the pilot take off.
As soon as they were in the air, Michael settled into his seat with Samantha's help and pulled on a headset. "What's the situation?" he demanded.
"We're still unsure," was the reply. "But we got word that Zeus is in town and they're trying to track Miss Hawke down for some reason."
"Where is Sam MacGyver?"
"Main office, with Lydia," she replied. "She's keeping him up to date."
"Excellent. And my jet?"
"Prepped and waiting to get you out of here and back to Reno."
"Good. Tell Lydia to ask Mr. MacGyver if he'd like to spend a few days in Reno then have her catch up to me at the plane. If Zeus is in town, I need to make myself absent," he admitted wryly. "Make sure we have agents watching the Stars and Stripes hanger and following any of the main employees associated with Red and her business. I don't want Zeus' people to have a chance to get ahold of someone if that's their ambition."
She nodded as she drew out her cell phone, making sure she had a secure line before calling the office. He didn't bother to listen to what she was saying. His attention was diverted elsewhere, listening to the pilots as they kept an eye on the action below. Samantha nodded to him after a few minutes and he relaxed a little, knowing that meant Sam and Lydia were on the way to the airport.
The sooner he was out of the state, the better, and he wasn't planning to be back until the Christmas concert in December. He had too much to take care of now that the Lady had been found, and the sooner she was in his labs back in Nevada, the better.
In the meantime, he had some ideas on how to help with the confusion created by the 'shell game' while he waited for his Firm contacts to let him know what was truly going on.
They were about an hour out of the warehouse when Red noticed that the two cars she'd had playing 'runner' and 'blocker' seemed to be drifting away, the car ahead moving further up, while the one beside them slowing to slide in behind her. "What's going on?" she asked Bridges, noting that he was doing something with his laptop computer.
"Changing out the cars and drivers," he assured her. "That red Honda ahead of us is your new runner, and the dark green pickup back and to your left is taking over the blocking. The others are going to fall back to see if there's anyone actually following us in this traffic. The other two trucks are getting the same treatment since dad's scrambling our security guards to watch all three rigs."
"I just hope we don't have to make any sudden moves or the Lady is likely to roll back there. They set wheel locks and chocks on her, but those won't hold up to a lot of torque," Red pointed out. She glanced over at his laptop as he murmured something into the Bluetooth headset he was wearing. "Got one of those for me to listen in on?"
"No, but I can make arrangements for one to meet up with us along with some food and bottled water once we get outside of city limits and can hit a rest stop. We'll know by then if anyone is actually following us or if this was just paranoia on our part. If there is something going on, we'll know by then and can see if your idea threw them for a loop."
She couldn't argue with that. "You know how to drive a rig like this?" she asked.
"No, never had a reason to learn. Obviously, that's something I need to correct sometime soon," he admitted wryly. "I'm not sure dad can even drive a big rig like this, though he can drive a car when he has to."
Red glanced his way, a touch of curiosity playing across her features. "Does he get out a lot?"
"Not a whole lot, no, but he does spend a few days a week at the labs when things are slow, and he teaches a high school debate class twice a week."
"So much for low profile…," she murmured. "And he hasn't gotten caught in twenty years doing things like that?"
"His students all think he's completely blind," Bridges explained. "He's even got a seeing eye dog he works with some times to shore up the illusion. It helps that he really is half blind, and the people who chauffer him around help keep up the act. He's been overseeing the debate team for five years now. It's an after school event and he's had a lot of fun teaching the class."
She snorted at the idea, checking her rear view mirrors again. "How far behind us do you have people?" she asked.
He checked his laptop, clicking in a few commands as he studied the maps and information the home office was feeding him. "Close observation is a quarter mile back and there are now three vehicles back there total," he told her, then updated the screen. "Correction, there are five. The truck we originally had coming in to pick up the Lady is a mile back with its own set of blockers. More drivers will come in behind him to see if anyone is on his tail and if so, he'll take the exit coming up and try to draw them away. So far, though, we seem to be in the clear." A touch to the keyboard controls drew up a map. "It's going to take us most of a full day to get this rig to Reno with the plan you laid out, you know."
"I know," she assured him, switching to a slower lane as they came up onto a steep rise and she downshifted into a lower gear to handle the climb.
The blockers around them stayed within a reasonable distance as her pace slowed with the climb. They moved forwards and back through traffic, trying to avoid the appearance that they were pacing the semi. She nodded in approval of their moves since it helped to keep them from drawing attention. "If the big rig in the back is in the clear, have them start to move up and fall in behind us for a bit, then go around and join the blockers. Sometimes you can get lucky and have a couple of other rigs on the highway do the same. If we're just part of a crowd, all the better."
Typing on his laptop and murmuring softly into the headset, Bridges sent on her suggestions to HQ, which were most likely being relayed to his father. The flight to Reno wouldn't take more than an hour. With drive time to and from the airport, it might be two hours at most before Michael was back in his C&C center at the Reno complex. Bridges knew his dad wouldn't head for the lab until they were about an hour out from the location themselves, so he'd be overnighting at the main complex in Reno.
Over the next hour, they cleared one vehicle after another, cars and trucks coming and going as they moved out of Los Angeles proper and headed towards Las Vegas. They were eventually directed to an out of the way area where they met up with another semi, this one sporting a big sleeper cab for long distance hauling. The trailer was identical, and seemed to have been weighted to match the trailer holding the Lady. In a matter of minutes, a team of skilled drivers had switched the two cabs while Red and Bridges hit the rest rooms and took a moment to walk out the stiffness in their legs. Red made a quick check to be sure that all air hoses and couplings were sound before she carefully opened the back of the trailer, slipping inside to verify the Lady was still where she needed to be.
Bridges was handed a case that held an upgraded laptop and the Bluetooth headset that Red had requested. Once she was back in the driver's seat, he handed her the headset. "Here, this is set to our frequencies and is fully encrypted," he told her, giving her a quick lesson on how it operated before helping her to set it so she could listen in on the vehicles around them. A few vehicles had stopped with them, while others had gone ahead. Several stopped several miles back to see if they were being followed, and she relaxed as she listened to the comfortable chatter confirming they were in the clear. A quick change of license plates between the two vans and they were on their way again.
The stop had been good for them in many ways Red realized as she got them back onto the highway. As well as the bed behind the seats, the new rig had a fridge and a secured coffee maker. Made for cross country hauling, the seats were more comfortable and the windows were slightly tinted, helping to hide who was inside from casual view. With the plate change on the two trailers, no one would be the wiser that there'd been a major switch between them. "What's the other rig hauling?" she asked Bridges as he stepped around the transmission hub to go into the back.
"Probably equipment and supplies for our LA office," was the reply and she heard him open the fridge. "They've stocked the fridge with ham, turkey, roast beef and chicken salad," he called up to her. "They even gave us sliced tomatoes and lettuce to go on them as well as mayo and mustard."
"Chicken salad got relish in it?" she asked.
"Nope, mayo and green onions," he replied as he opened the container to inspect the salad. "Possibly a touch of ranch dressing, though."
"Sounds good, with lettuce please."
"No problem," he assured her. "Kona coffee?"
"Not familiar with it," she admitted.
"It's made from beans grown in Hawaii. I think you'll like it. Cream or sugar?"
"Sugar, no cream."
It took Bridges about five minutes to sort things out, and she soon had a neatly quartered sandwich, an opened bag of chips and a travel mug full of fresh brewed coffee within easy reach on the table built over the transmission hub.
Settling back into his seat with his choice of lunch, they ate in silence as they crossed over the state line into Nevada. After he finished up his lunch, he set up the new laptop, connecting to the C&C in Reno. Once Red finished eating, Bridges touched the ear piece to activate his headset. "HQ, you there?"
"Online now," was the immediate reply, and Red recognized Michael's voice. "Glad that switch went smoothly. Red, good call with the other rigs. We left someone to discretely watch the rig at the Bone Yard to see if anyone showed up. I don't think they had a tail but Zeus has obviously been looking for you. Within half an hour of dropping off the rig, you had visitors. I'm afraid you'll need to buy a new padlock for your hanger door. Our watcher checked things out after they left and nothing appears to be tampered with other than the placement of a few surveillance bugs. They opened the back of the trailer but didn't climb inside."
"Great," she grumbled, frowning at the world outside the window. "So do you still have someone keeping an eye on things there?" she asked, trying to not growl at Michael.
"Yes. It's up to you if you want us to remove the planted bugs or not," he said, making it more of a question than a statement.
Red was silent for a few minutes, thinking things over. Finally she huffed out a sigh, "No, just leave them. Again it's a matter of giving them the sense that I'm 'oblivious' to what they're up to. Besides, it's usually just me there anyway, so it's not like I'll be carrying on any conversations unless I take up talking to myself." She looked over at Bridges with a lopsided smirk. "I would have loved for them to try and open the trailer without entering the correct code in. I found it rigged with explosives set into the floor of the trailer. I'm assuming that the wrong code would set them off."
Bridges looked over at her with a bit of a shocked expression. Michael was quiet for a moment, "You seemed to have failed to mention that little tidbit when we were sitting near it discussing terms, or to mention something to my driver?"
"It wasn't my intention to not tell you. I was rather busy with other things and I had disarmed it for the duration of its time in the warehouse. Once I locked the back of the trailer after it was loaded, it probably rearmed." She huffed a little into the headset. "Besides, the plan was to just have them drop off the semi rig and leave."
Michael growled a little at Red, "That's not the point. The point is it's probably not the most stable of things after sitting this long. What would have happened if it had gone off while in transit?"
"Actually Michael, I had MacGyver examine the explosives, what little he could get to at the time he was moving the trailer. He was pretty sure that it was still stable enough to move. If it hadn't been, he would have found another way to get our cargo out and into something else before transport. Anyway, with the amount of jostling and rough riding it went through to get it from its storage space and into the warehouse, if it hadn't gone off, an air cushioned shock absorber ride in the back of a cargo container wasn't going to cause an issue." Red rolled her eyes a little, not seeing what the big fuss was about.
The argument between the two ceased as it grew quiet on the other end of the line. Red looked over at Bridges who was still staring at her with a stunned expression. She gave him a slight shrug as if conveying that there wasn't anything that could be done about it now.
A few miles passed beneath their tires before Michael's voice returned to her headset. "Once your cargo is safe and things have settled with the FIRM for the time being, I'll send someone over to disarm and remove the explosives. It is probably C-4 and knowing Stringfellow, it probably makes up about an inch under the floor of the trailer."
A flicker of surprise crossed Red's face. "Stringfellow knew how to do that?"
"He was in the movie business, my dear, as well as serving in Vietnam," came Michael's reply. "Of course he knew how to utilize C-4, it being one of the most stable explosives on the market. If he had made a contingency plan in case something happened to him, he probably figured the Lady would be put in long term storage. It's the best choice for what he needed."
Red considered that, and figured he had a point. Deciding to change the subject back to their current situation, she cleared her throat before speaking. "So, do you think there's any chance of them picking us up at this point?"
"No, but we're going to keep to the plan if you're up to it. I can get another driver to meet up with you before you hit Vegas so you're not driving all night. I'm pretty sure you didn't get a lot of sleep last night given how late it was before we called it a night and how early you were up for your morning walk."
"I'll be the only one driving this rig," she stated a bit tersely. "Besides, I got enough sleep. I've gone with a lot less for a lot longer. If my calculations are correct, we should be in right about dawn, so long as we don't come across any issues skirting the Sierra's," she assured him. She looked over at his son who was busily typing something into the laptop. "You know, I can't call you both Michael. It'd be confusing as hell. And I've tried to get out of the habit of calling people by their last name since I left the military."
"I'm used to people calling me 'Mike'," Bridges assured her, grinning at the snort that came over the headset. "It's been a problem for years, and the old man is used to being 'Michael'. Besides, mom preferred to have something that was short and easy to yell when she called me in."
Red considered that tidbit for a moment. "So who's your mom?" she asked.
"A wonderful woman named Aluna took over the responsibility of being my mother after my birth mother died," he responded, his eyes looking elsewhere for a moment. "I was four when cancer took her. I'd barely even remember her if it hadn't been for the films and letters she'd left behind for dad to give me as I grew up."
"I don't know if I should envy you that or not," she stated after a few minutes of contemplative silence. "I don't remember anything at all of my real parents, though I dream some times of music and wind and think it might be some vague memories of my dad. It confused me until last night, when Michael told us that String played the cello. He never mentioned it in his journals."
"It was his way of unwinding, of settling his mind when he wanted to relax," Michael stated, his voice growing softer as he thought about his long lost friend. "There was an eagle that nested near the cabin and her decedents are still up there. He would sit out on the dock and play, trying to get her to trust him and come down where he could see her." There was an amused chuckle over the radio. "He was downright vicious to my people who got careless and got too close to her. They learned to keep their eyes open when they flew me up to the lake."
"There's a nesting tree about a half mile from the cabin," she stated, checking mirrors and switching lanes. "I take it you have a way to track this rig now?" she asked, changing subjects.
"Yes, we were keeping track of you before by tracers on the blockers and runners, but now we have a direct link to you," Michael admitted. "Don't worry it's not traceable by anyone else."
"I would hope not," she replied, glancing over at Mike. He was intent on his computer, which seemed to be showing him where everyone else was at around them. "Half dozen cars in view, otherwise these roads are looking pretty empty. Let's hope they stay that way. Is Sam with you?" she asked Michael.
A moment passed before Sam's voice replied. "I'm here. Keep yourself out of trouble."
"I never go looking for trouble. It just has a way of finding me," she pointed out. "Keep safe if you go out, all right?"
"Planning on it," he assured her. "They got me a secure line to dad before we left LA. He's picking up Rachelle to stay at his place for the weekend, and Michael says he's got a watch on Erica and the other kids for the foreseeable future." There was a moment of silence. "Michael's talking to someone on a different line, and not looking too happy right now."
"Hopefully that's Andrew on the line and he's finding out why the hell Zeus was out looking for Red," Mike stated without looking up from his computer. "Something must have piqued his interest enough to bring him to the West coast looking for Red, or it was the worst case of bad timing I've ever heard of."
"That sounds too coincidental to me," Red pointed out. "From what I understand from being in the military, spies don't believe in coincidence."
"Very true," Michael stated, rejoining the conversation. "Andrew's not sure what the old bastard is up to, but he's pretty sure something got him riled up. Zeus has half of Andrew's office out hunting for you, Red, or someone close to you. We've got to assume someone saw or heard something at some point. Zeus may have decided to haul you in for another round of 'questioning' to see if you've learned anything in the last few years since you've been living at your father's cabin."
Red's hands gripped the steering wheel tight enough to make her knuckles turn white. She had to unclench her jaw before continuing. "The old truck and trailer?" she asked. "It would have been registered in String's name, wouldn't it?"
Michael's voice was thoughtful, but he seemed sure of his information on his end. "We're re-checking that now, but it might not have been. I had a complete listing at one point of every vehicle registered to your father and the others, and that rig wasn't on it. I'm not sure who it actually belongs to since it wasn't listed under Dominic or Cait's names either."
She considered that. "Paid for with cash, and the titles on both never transferred?" she suggested.
"That would be my best bet," he agreed. "And no one stopped you when you moved it?" he asked, clearly talking to Sam.
"No one," was the immediate reply. "We moved it at night, and with the weather being pretty bad, it was the perfect time to do the job. The highways were mostly empty when we brought it into the city at roughly four in the morning."
"Then It's probably not the van, but they may have finally worked out her connection to MacGyver," Michael mused. "My people as well as Zeus' have both run into your father, Sam. While mine were ultimately able to work with him, Zeus', for the most part, did not even try. Unfortunately, MacGyver's gotten a reputation for finding things and that alone may have drawn Zeus out to investigate."
"Is he stupid enough to make a play for Mac?" Red asked, concerned. "Mac may not like to handle a gun, but that doesn't mean he can't use one."
"I truly don't know the answer to that question," Michael admitted. "I have my people keeping an eye on things right now, just in case."
Red grew quiet after that, having turned off the mic to her headset. Her eyes were focused on the road, but her mind was elsewhere.
They stopped for dinner at a truck stop on the outskirts of Vegas, getting a hot meal, a chance to stretch, and use the restrooms before getting back on the road again. While the rig was parked, some of the Angels traveling with them took the opportunity to do the same, while others, from the Vegas area, kept an eye on the semi and the different cars and trucks in their caravan.
Back on the road with darkness descending rapidly, Red's early morning started to catch up with her, contrary to her earlier declaration. Parking at a rest stop for her to get a nap wasn't an appealing option, but it might need to happen at some point. It was either that or have another driver take over. Neither idea really thrilled her.
She glanced over at Mike, who was keeping an eye on their runners and blockers. "So, mind if ask you some questions?"
"Fire away, but I reserve the right to tell you you'll have to wait on an answer," he warned, looking up from the screen. "I was just signing off with dad. Aluna's making him go to bed, and Sam as well. Control says we're still in the clear."
"Good to know," she replied, checking their mirrors. "So, what was it like growing up the kid of a 'dead' spy?"
He chuckled at the question, grinning. "A little odd, actually. Most kids in school talk about the work their dads do to take care of the family. Instead I would talk about mom and how she was building the business, though I was taught early not to talk too much about Guardian Angels either. I always had a guardian myself, though; someone would take me to school then someone else would pick me up after school to take me home. I started music lessons at home when I was five. Having me around gave mom and dad some insight as to how the business needed to expand as I got older. I was essentially their trial case."
Red considered that answer. "You didn't quite answer the question, though the information was certainly enlightening."
Mike chuckled. "Sorry, but I was taught from the start to be evasive when talking about dad. It's a hard habit to break."
"Understandable, but not helpful," she replied. "I take it you didn't see your dad much?"
He shrugged. "Unless something major went on in the labs, dad was usually home by the time I got done with my daily music lessons," he stated. "Mom came home a little later. Dad's a great cook, which surprises the hell out of a lot of people. He usually cooked dinner and mom would do breakfast in trade."
Red nodded into the dark, the light from the instruments and the few passing cars giving off the only illumination in the cab. She was silent for a moment as she considered more to the point questions. "When was the first time he went to your school?"
"That's a bit better, less room for me to hedge around to avoid answering the question, he laughed. "The first time was when I was ten. I had moved up a few grades and was in my first year of junior high. I actually got into the music class that year, and we were finishing off the year with a concert for parents and classmates."
"Le Van had actually arrived a few days before. He'd just graduated from high school and had the summer off before he was due to start college in the fall. He's actually the one who suggested that dad pretend to be blind when he went out and about, and that's when dad got his first pair of completely dark glasses. He can see through them, but only enough to keep him from running into things and seeing anyone who might be coming after him. Usually, though, when he's walking around, he closes his eye to better hold up the illusion.
"Anyway, I wound up in the music class when I stuck my head into the classroom and told the girl practicing the cello that she needed to tune it before trying to play it. Given that she was four years older than I was, I was essentially told to put up or shut up and go away."
Red smirked at his gumption. "Out of tune?"
He shuddered. "Major understatement. I went in, sat down in the chair beside her and proceeded to teach half the class how to use a tuning fork and a pitch pipe because the teacher hadn't come in yet. The teacher arrived in time to hear the last five minutes of the lesson, and asked me to play. I did so, using the girl's cello, and soon found myself in the after school music class at school instead of at home. Mom and dad weren't happy, but they admitted I needed to be among my peers more, even if I was the youngest student in the school. It's what finally caused them to start making schedule adjustments on how I could spend my time. Anyway, that end of year musical was the first time dad had been out in public for five years, but he felt he needed to go. It also marked the point where I was finally allowed to play your father's cello at home. The string's section had their own song, with each of us playing solo in turn, and dad was impressed with my performance."
"I take it that wasn't the instrument you used at school, though."
He gave her a startled look. "Hell no. The Strad has only been taken out of the house a few times. It was only ever taken out for concerts, when I took it from the apartment in Reno to my apartment in LA and for the two charity concerts. We have a Christmas event lined up for the third next month." He paused a moment, turning to watch her. "I hope you'll let me use it for that event?"
That caught her by surprise. "You're asking me?" she questioned without thinking about it.
"The instrument, legally, belongs to you," he pointed out. "Dad and I have only been its caretakers. The two concerts I've done have both been for charities dad believed your father would have supported."
"I'm not sure what I would do with it," she admitted after a long moment of thought. "I seldom even listen to music, and the idea of me playing an instrument like that would make a cat laugh. I don't have the aptitude for it." She thought about it for a few minutes. "Which charities?"
"Wounded Warrior Foundation and the Fisher House this time. Both help military personnel who have been injured in the line of duty, as well as their dependents."
She nodded, pleased. "Good causes. Keep the cello for now, and we'll sort out what to do about it after New Year's, okay?"
"Works for me," he agreed.
She gave them a few minutes to digest what had just been discussed. Mike checked the road around them again while he clicked away on his computer. "So, how often did you get to spend a whole day with your dad, and what would you two do?" she finally asked.
"Every weekend, actually. We'd head out to his lab and spend Saturday and half of Sunday there. It was a way to give mom a day off where she didn't have to deal with us or work unless something was happening somewhere. Dad started teaching me about electronics when I was five, and his staff would come up with fun, simple projects for us to do together that got progressively harder through the years. I had a very well rounded, hands-on grasp of science and engineering by the time I hit high school and dad encouraged me to take wood and automotive shop in addition to what I learned in his labs."
"How old were you when you graduated?"
"High school? Fifteen. It took me three years to get my double masters in engineering and electronics, and I studied political science on the side. That education started when I was six. Dad didn't want me caught by surprise if I ended up tangled in something out of his past. And you?"
"Hmmm?"
"Politics. Do you follow them at all?"
Red's face scrunched up at the thought. "Not much. Moving station to station, you have to either go through the process of getting re-registered to vote every time you move, or you have to go through the hassles of getting mail-in ballots from the state you're registered in. Either way, you also have to keep up on who is running in the races to be an informed voter." She shook her head. "Some military folks don't bother and wait to start voting until after they get out of the service."
"Good points," he agreed. "How are you holding up?"
"Getting tired. My lack of sleep last night is starting to tell on me," she admitted. "I'm good, as long as we keep talking though."
Red was quiet for a time as she focused on maneuvering through traffic. She had her CDL license but it had been awhile since she'd driven something this big. With the precious cargo in the back, she was hyper-aware that one false move could send Airwolf sliding around in the back. She spotted a line of trucks up ahead that were spaced far enough apart but yet it was obvious that some of them were traveling together, while others had just hitched themselves to the line. Downshifting, she slid in the back of the line and set her speed to match the one ahead of her. With it being November, the sun had set some time ago, though it was still early in the evening. Traffic was beginning to thin thankfully now that they were away from Las Vegas.
She glanced to the side and saw Mike doing something on his laptop, but she couldn't tell what. He was no longer talking over the headset, though she could hear what was being said through her own. The chatter had died down to only a comment or two as the runners and blockers settled into a routine of switching back and forth.
Mike finished what he was doing and closed the laptop for now, setting it off to the side. She could tell that he was looking at her with a little bit of contemplation and she wondered what he was thinking. She didn't have to wait long.
"So, since I answered a number of your questions, how about I turn the tables and ask a few of my own." There was a slight grin to his face.
Raising an eyebrow, Red turned her head slightly to look at him. "It was more like evaded my questions, but alright. Ask away but I have the right to not answer."
Mike grimaced slightly but nodded, "Fair enough." He shifted in his seat so that his body was turned part way to face her. He was quiet for a few minutes as he thought about what to ask her first.
"Since you were hidden under the radar of dad and other spy networks, there's a lot about your youth that there's no record of other than basic things like school grades and the moves you're adoptive parents made. I find it strange that though you were an infant when you met your biological father and only in his care for a short time, you take after him on so many levels. Out of all the things you could do, why flying?"
There was a slight snort, a raised eyebrow and a touch of a smirk to her lips, partnered with a sidelong glance at Mike. Michael would have immediately recognized that look, as one that Hawke gave him often enough when he was amused or thought something ironic. "I guess the question would be, why not? Some grow up to race cars, some to fix them while others learn how to be cooks or bakers and so on. But you'll find that many of those people were brought up in an environment that nurtured those interests. My adoptive parents were both in the Air Force, and I grew up around military bases and air fields. It just seemed logical, plus something just felt right about it." She finished by giving him a shrug as if to say that it should be obvious.
Mike mmmmed softly, then asked, "When did you take your first flight? When you started flying lessons, who was your instructor?"
Red's eyes focused on the road for a moment then they checked the mirrors before she answered. "First time I was taken up in a chopper was when I was four. They were having an airshow on base and my mom wanted to see how I would do in a chopper since I was so fascinated with them. We lived on base and she'd always find me watching the air planes and jets through the chain link fence in the back yard. So she arranged it with one of the Chinook pilots to take us up for a short flight before the airshow started. She told me, when I was older, that I was so excited that I couldn't hold still. The pilots thought I was too cute because I was very attentive on what they were doing when we went up."
She shrugged a little, "My first instructor was one of the older mechanics who said he saw potential in me because of my constant questions that weren't stupid or idiotic like most kids he'd encountered on base. He said I was a quick study on anything he told me and that I was intuitive when it came to the mechanics of a plane or chopper. I don't know. It just sort of clicked between Marcus and I." She grew quiet for a while. "Marcus started teaching me the mechanics of any machine he was working on, though half the time he had to sneak me into the shop where he worked. He had a place for me to hide if we had anyone show up that wasn't supposed to know about me being there. That whole liability thing ya know. So I learned how to fix the engines and systems on choppers and jets before I ever took my first training flight. I was six when he took me under his wing and my first training flight was when I was nine."
After a few minutes, Red chuckled at something that had resurfaced from her memories. "Your dad has stated several times that I'm a lot like Stringfellow, but honestly if you had ever met Marcus, you'd know where I got a lot of my mannerisms. He was jokingly accused several times of making me into a little miniature replica of himself." She gave a casual shrug again, "Maybe it's just a 'pilot' thing. Who knows?"
As the semi began to climb up a steep grade, she shifted into a lower gear and got the engine back up to speed.
Red was quiet for the next few miles as her memories spurred other thoughts. She was brought out of her musings when Mike asked her another question.
"So why did you decide to go into the military instead of commercial work?" He looked genuinely curious.
She shrugged, "It seemed the right thing to do at the time. Besides, military planes and choppers were something I knew about and already had experience flying some of them. Can't fly fighter jets if you're a civilian. Besides, who would hire an eighteen year old pilot to fly you around? I didn't have anyone but MacGyver and my foster family, The Poole's. I was legally an adult and didn't feel comfortable mooching off of someone else until I could find work. Besides, if anyone did a background check on me, they'd see there was a sealed file in my past. Usually that means you were in trouble in some way and they wouldn't hire you unless they were desperate. The Air Force didn't care after they saw my pilot license and my aptitude scores."
She shrugged again, as if to say, 'That's just the way it was.'
Mike was quiet as he chewed on that little bit of info. Shortly after they had learned about Red, a file was started. It was already quite thick, holding information on everything from her grade school scores to her military history. It also held information on her medical records, mainly the crash that had put her into 'retirement' from the Air Force. He'd taken the time one night to read through the file, putting things in chronological order. During that evening, he'd found pieces of time missing or facts that didn't seem to add up. One of those bits of missing information was about her foster family. He'd tracked down their names and information. From what he'd dug up on them, they had been an older couple, having passed about six years back. They had been former employees of the Phoenix Foundation, thus how MacGyver hooked Red up with them.
The miles disappeared under the truck tires as Red continued to follow at the appropriate distance behind the semi in front of her. After another half hour passed in silence other than the quarter hour checking by everyone, Mike turned back towards her again.
"So what are your plans for Stars and Stripes?"
Red gave a snort as if she found something amusing. "Honestly, at this point in my life, I'll just be happy to keep up with having two businesses. I never seem to have enough pilots or mechanics. The more advanced some of these filming companies are becoming, the larger the projects, the more aircraft are needed for filming and the need for better high-tech filming equipment. That stuff ain't cheap and it's hard trying to stay ahead of the curve so that we're hirable."
Mike's left eyebrow raised up as if to say 'Oh really?' but having been in the film business for some time, he was well aware of the constantly changing nature of a filming company. "Never thought you'd have to worry about such things did you?" he asked jokingly.
Red gave a slight exasperated groan, "If you'd told me four years ago that I'd be the owner of two aircraft businesses and struggling to keep up with half of what was going on around me, I'd have flat out called you a liar, that there was no way I'd ever get myself involved in something like that."
A chuckle from the dark where Mike sat made her eyes shift that direction. "Hey, I grew up wanting to be a classical cellist or become a spy like my dad. I never envisioned myself becoming an executive officer of a filming company."
Quiet reigned over the cab again as Red took a moment to get around a couple of cars that had slid in front of her and then decided to be idiots and slow down. She grumbled under her breath about assholes that couldn't keep to the speed limit. Once she situated herself back in the line of trucks heading north, she put on the cruise control and stretched a little.
"So where do you see yourself going with The Boneyard?" Mike asked, curiosity coloring his words. "Honestly, it's a great idea. With more and more insurance issues being flung at filming companies with hiring reenactors or renting equipment that people own to use as props, it's easier to go to a company that specializes in these kinds of things. Its' one thing to go to a prop house to get costumes and small props to set a scene, but it's another to put out a call for old cars, military items and aircraft that are in working order. There's no one central place to go to get that sort of thing."
Red listened, her eyes flicking to where he sat now and then. "Honestly, I'd really like to expand the Boneyard. It was well received at the last airshow in Vegas. We've gotten a lot of calls about people wanting to either sell us their equipment or interested in working on or flying the old aircraft. Problem is, it was meant to be a side company to Stars and Stripes, some place to store our vintage aircraft and get them out of the main hanger and somewhere they could be somewhat protected, with ease of access when we needed them. However, that's not really what happened." She gave a helpless shrug. "Now we find people knocking on our door wanting to hire out our vintage aircraft more than they want to hire out our charter service. Unfortunately we don't have enough aircraft of a variety to offer much."
"So what kind of items are you looking for? I'm assuming that some of the people wanting to sell you things are hoping to make big bucks off of you or you'd have more equipment by now."
She gave a snort then nodded, though it was hard to see it in the dark cab. "You wouldn't believe some of the 'offers' we've had. They must think we're made out of money. They should know better, having been owners of a vintage aircraft and how much time it takes to keep them in working order as well as storing them. And unfortunately there's no 'blue book value' on these aircraft so it's a best guess at times."
Someone sped past them then realized that they were going to miss their exit and squeezed in between Red and the truck in front of her before stepping on their brakes so they could dive to the right to catch the tail end of their exit. Red cussed as she was forced to step on the brakes a bit harder than she wanted to. The words that managed to be within hearing range of Mike made him raise an eyebrow at her. "And you kiss Sam with that mouth?" he teased, earning a dark look from Red as she worked to get the semi back up to speed and calm her racing heart.
She was silent for the next twenty miles, her jaw set in a scowl. Mike kept his peace and waited for her to relax.
"About your question in regards to what I'm looking to add to the collection, I could use a couple of tanks of vintage quality and a variety of World War II and Vietnam era military aircraft. Problem is, I need to also find mechanics who can fix said pieces as well as drive or fly them. I'm good behind the stick but each aircraft is different in how it handles and until I'm used to it, I don't want to be flying on my own."
Mike nodded, "I'll see what I can do for you. I can put out some feelers amongst some of the people we've hired before to see what I can dig up."
She nodded, her jaw relaxing and her knuckles not so strained from gripping the steering wheel. Traveling in silence again, Mike noticed that Red was beginning to wilt a little, a distant stare to her eyes. He decided to pop another question on her.
"So Red, how serious is the relationship with Sam?"
Red gave a little jerk and looked at him, blinking her eyes a few times as she focused on the world around her again. "Huh?"
Mike smirked at the 'intelligent' answer she'd responded with and repeated the question.
"Pretty serious," she said as she turned her head to look back out the window. Mike swore he could feel the blush on her cheeks from where he sat.
"Come on Red. You two try to act all casual around each other but I've seen the looks you give each other when you don't think anyone is watching. How serious is 'pretty serious'?" Mike smiled, mirth coloring his words.
Instead of answering, Red reached up and took ahold of a necklace that was under her shirt. She pulled it off and handed it to Mike.
Taking it cautiously from her, he could see immediately that there was a ring on the end of the chain, the headlights catching a reflection off of something that looked like a small diamond. Holding the ring up to the light, he looked at the simple but elegant band. "Wow. Pretty serious."
He carefully handed it back and Red threw the loop of the chain back around her neck and tucked the ring inside her shirt. "Yeah," was her only response.
"Does dad know?" Mike asked carefully. "Because if he doesn't, you know he's going to have his feelings hurt that I knew before him."
She snorted, "You're father, the master spy that he is, figured something was up and bugged me until I gave in and told him. He's known since last night." She gave an exasperated sigh. "Sam and I just want a quiet ceremony, nothing fancy and nothing to draw attention to us. I think your father has 'other' plans already in mind." There was an almost defeated sound to her voice.
All Mike could do was laugh at her expense, earning another glare from Red who was thankful that the dark hid the deepening flush of embarrassment that crept up her cheeks.
The terrain became more mountainous the farther north they traveled on US-395. As they reached higher elevations, it was easier to see the evidence of recent snows by the mounds of plowed snow along the highway that reflected back stark white in the headlights.
Mike looked over at Red as the time crossed over into midnight and saw that Red had begun to zone out. "How are you doing?" he asked. "We can get another driver and you could crash in the back. The bed's pretty comfortable back there."
"I know it sounds strange, but I don't want anyone else driving this rig," she confessed to him.
Mike raised an eyebrow at this but let the idea drop. "We'll need to drive about fifty miles outside of Reno, and should reach the labs about four am at this rate. The last hour will be off the highways and you'll have to drive slower, but we own most of the land out that way and shouldn't have any troubles. Still, it's going to be damn late. Do you think you can make it that far?"
She glanced at the clock. "It's just after midnight," she mused. "I'm afraid of nodding off in these higher elevations. The roads aren't completely cleared of the last snow they got."
Musing over this quandary for a few moments, he opened up his laptop and began typing something in. After a few moments, he spoke up. "There's an out of the way rest area about twenty miles ahead. You could pull off and crash in the sleeper for a two hour power nap. We'll still be getting in fairly early to the labs."
"That could work too," she admitted with a sigh, knowing he was right. "I think I can make the next twenty miles without too much fuss."
Mike spread the word up and down the line to the runners and blockers, as well as the Reno C&C that a stop was necessary to get some rest. Twenty miles seemed to stretch on a lot farther than expected but they soon found the rest stop that had a few trucks and one RV parked for the night. It seemed to be fairly quiet, with nothing suspicious with those vehicles already parked.
Everyone was glad to have a chance to stop and rest, and after hitting the restrooms and walking out stiff joints, Red made Mike set an alarm for two hours and crawled into the sleeper's bed, sound asleep within minutes. Mike stayed up, having gotten more sleep than she had the night before, and kept a watch with a couple of the drivers coming and going.
Three a.m. found them back on the road again, a mug of double strength coffee with six teaspoons of sugar, sat on the transmission hub. The sugar added a bit of a needed rush, and Mike fixed them both another sandwich from the back as she got the semi moving again. This time she was on the radio herself, talking to the new blockers and runners. With fresh eyes all around them, the rest of the trip was uneventful. As they approached the final stretch towards Reno, Mike instructed her to turn off the highway onto a county road that would take them to the lab outside of Reno.
It was just after six a.m., the sun barely making an appearance yet, when she turned the truck onto a long, private drive and was waved through white granite gates by the guards. Two of the escort blockers followed them into the compound, the others having dispersed soon after the turn off to the county road. Looking around the area as she pulled in, the early light of dawn was beginning to reveal details of the compound and she saw the lab itself was huge, built to blend in tastefully with the sandstone and near desert around it. She could make out some greenery in strategic places, but it looked to be local plants, rather than being landscaped with something that was hard to maintain in this environment. The main part of the building was five stories high, with a single, two-story wing to one side.
Mike looked over at her as they slowed down, driving under an archway of naturally sculpted stone. Stopping just shy of the ramp that led them down into the lab, Mike grinned at her. "Congratulations," he stated with a sigh of obvious relief. "The Lady has finally come home to roost."
Red looked over at him with a raised eyebrow at his statement, then gave a sigh and shook her head a little.
"Think you can back this rig into the underground garage?" he questioned, giving her a smirk due to her reaction of his earlier statement. He noticed how tired she still looked; the dark smudges under her eyes spoke of the level of her exhaustion. He knew how tired he was after the long trip, and he hadn't been the one driving the truck. The nap had helped her, but it had still been a long trip for someone who didn't drive truck professionally. "You know, we do have people here who can take over if you want."
Red simply shook her head. "I got it. I want to see this to the end," she assured him though she knew this would be the last hurrah for her until she'd managed to get at least a solid six hours of sleep. "So, backward down the ramp. Is the ceiling high enough?"
"Yep, it was made for this," he assured her, leaning back to be sure he was out of her line of sight to the mirrors as she worked the big rig around. Security guards were already stationed on both sides of the trailer to help guide her back. "All the supply docks are underground, so no one even blinks at seeing trucks do this. They should have the cars cleared out of the way. Dad got here about an hour ago and would have had them moved."
Rolling the trailer back down the ramp into the underground garage wasn't easy, but with the directions over the headset from the security guards, some liberal use of hand signals and lots of concentration Red finally brought the truck to a stop barely two feet from a wall. She shut down the rig with a deep sigh of relief.
Mike gave her a grin. "Happy to be done with this?" he asked.
"Yes," she assured him, unbuckling her seat belt and opening the door. She stepped out of the cab onto the running board before hopping down to the concrete floor. A slight noise made her look up and see Sam heading towards her, his quiet smile reassuring her that he was all right. A gentle hug and a quick kiss made Red relax just a touch more, knowing she was with the one person in the world that would take her as she was, flaws and all. Looking past his shoulder she saw Michael and two women following behind him, met up with Mike who had come around the front of the cab.
"Welcome to Reno," the older man stated with a grin as he leaned against his cane. "Red, let me first introduce you to Aluna and Lydia." He motioned to each woman in turn who each gave a welcoming smile to Red. He focused on her for a moment, "How are you doing?" he asked softly.
Both women were beautiful in their own way, neat and professional. She smiled a little at each, giving a slight nod of greeting. "Tired," she admitted, looking at him. Her eyes then searched the surrounding area. She seemed to be trying to puzzle out something. "Where's she going to be offloaded?"
"Right here," he stated, nodding towards the back wall. "Let me show you."
With a raised eyebrow, Red followed after Michael and his group, Mike bringing up the rear as Sam quietly took her hand in his. They were halfway down the length of the semi when the sound of large hydraulics came to life, a section of wall twenty feet high and twenty-five feet wide behind the trailer began to slowly move downward into the floor.
The floor on the other side of the wall sat three feet higher than the floor of the garage, making it almost level with the back of the truck. A group of men moved forward with a ramp that would span the distance between trailer and the elevated floor. After securing it to the tongue of the trailer, they opened the double doors revealing the precious cargo inside. Within moments, they had the wheel locks off, the chocks removed and was pushing the aircraft out onto the concrete floor. Red stared around her as she followed Michael up a set of stairs cut that had been cut out of the top of the large wall that had lowered into the floor, to allow access from one level to the other. She watched as half a dozen people shifted the Lady around with ease until she was in the center of chamber floor. Red noted the overhead shower system as several people in water-proof suits were taking down long handled brushes to clean the aircraft before it was moved into the more sanitary confines of the lab itself. Once the wall was raised again, it would become the end of what appeared to be a decom chamber, with large, blast-proof doors on the opposite ends of it.
Once everyone was clear and the trailer empty, the two foot thick section of wall slid upwards again, sealing tightly into place. Curious, Red hung back to look at the wall, noting how tightly it fit to the cement sections beside it. The work was good enough that no one would able tell the wall ever moved. She had no doubt that the unground area they were in wasn't on the building's blueprints.
"Let's go on through," Michael told them, motioning to the door set into one of the blast doors. "They need to take care of a few things here and it's going to get very wet in a few minutes."
Sam stuck close to Red as she looked around the high ceilinged room they were led into, taking note of a seating area with chairs and couches visible through the glass walls of another room.
Sam followed her gaze. "There's a couple of hammocks in there and a trio of cots too," he told her. "If you need to crash for a nap, it's pretty quiet in there."
She shook her head, looking back to where Michael was talking to a number of people, Aluna standing by his side, listening intently. Red watched a man about Michael's age go into the room that held the Lady, two techs behind him dressed in some armored protection pushing a rolling armored box between them. "What's going on?" she asked Mike, who was on the other side of Sam.
"At one point, the Lady was wired with a self-destruct system," he explained. "Babe and his people are here to make sure it's disarmed and any explosives are dealt with. They'll also be checking to make sure she's been complete disarmed before anyone does anything else with her besides a wash down."
"String's directions were pretty clear, so she should be clear of ordinance," she assured him.
Mike shifted, stifling a yawn that triggered Red to yawn in return. "I want to check in with dad and grab something to eat before I go crash for a few hours. From the looks of it, you should too."
She nodded absently as Mike walked over towards his dad. Side by side like this, she could truly see the family resemblance between the two. As the people who had been talking with Michael left to take care of business, Red took a moment to lean against Sam a little, taking a long look around and made note of the security features worked into the décor. As Sam absently rubbed back, they watched as the group that had gone in to disarm the Lady return, the techs taking off their gear, signaling that nothing had been left behind for them to find. The older man approached Michael, handing him a packet of yellowed papers and a pair of disks, who accepted them with a small, sad smile.
Michael and Aluna moved to rejoin Red and Sam, Mike heading in the opposite direction and disappeared through a different door. "Breakfast is waiting," Michael told them, motioning to a table next to a side board that was laid out with covered dishes. "Let's have a seat and discuss where things go from here." They each took a few moments to pick and choose from the variety of foods then settled around a table to get down to business.
"So, what's the plan now?" Red asked after finishing her small bowl of fruit.
Michael glanced up from his plate. "The first thing we need to do it remove her computer system," he stated, nodding to the techs who were starting to come in and get their own meals, taking seats nearby to listen in. "You said you found your father's journals, and I assume that he wrote, at some point, about Moffett?" He went on at her nod and distasteful look. "Unfortunately, he left what's referred to as a 'logic bomb' in the on board computer system. They believed they got it out, but no one was ever really sure. I'm not willing to take chances that it's still there, hidden deep in her code. I have an expert who will take the programming apart and rebuild it line for line on a whole new system. It means some work, but it will be far, far safer for everyone in the long run."
He paused for a swallow of coffee, while Red mentally digested what she'd just been told. "So, it will have a newly programmed system that goes back into her?" she asked.
"Completely new," he admitted. "If you were to take her up right now, as is, we wouldn't be able to hide her presence with the ECM systems I helped create thirty years ago. As of about ten years ago, even a good civilian radar system could find her."
"How much of the aircraft will be the same aircraft Red's dad flew?" Sam questioned between bites.
"In the end, if we update her fully, the engines, turbo system and main body will be the same aircraft. The props need to be changed out since they're too old to be trusted, as you already know. As for the hull, I need to think about that and run some tests on the metal and armor plating. She'll never rust, but there's a question about whether we could replace her hull with new alloys and armor that would be lighter, stronger and less likely to be picked up by surveillance systems."
Red nodded as if to herself, her eyes on the plate in front of her, the food mostly untouched. It was a bit to take in and she found it harder as the meal progressed to focus on the discussion. She nodded at the appropriate times but she felt she was retaining very little of the technical jargon that several of the techs from other tables began to expound upon with Michael, their excitement running high at finally having the legendary Airwolf finally within the safety of the lab and the search finally over.
Lydia was the first to notice that Red was nowhere to be found when she came back to the labs with fresh coffee for Michael. Aluna had left with Sam to go back to the offices so he could talk to MacGyver on a secure line. Michael and his techs had been so involved in the tour of the labs and discussion of innovative improvements they wanted to make to Airwolf that they hadn't noticed her absence.
"Michael? Have you seen Red recently?" asked Lydia as she craned her neck around trying to catch a glimpse of the blue overalls she'd been wearing earlier.
Michael looked up from one of the monitors the techs had attached to Airwolf's computer system. Looking around himself, he shook his head. Looking at his watch, he realized that several hours had passed since the Lady had first emerged from the decontamination chamber. "I haven't seen her in some time. I would have expected her to be head deep in the cockpit by now to be honest."
Lydia noticed the touch of chagrin he showed at having lost track of time and of the fact that he hadn't noticed Red not taking an interest in Airwolf once breakfast was over. "She's got to be somewhere," Michael said.
Lydia nodded, "Let's go see if she's in the commons area. I don't like the idea of her wandering off unsupervised."
Michael raised an eyebrow at that.
"She's exhausted and though she doesn't show it, she's stressed about turning over Airwolf after having just found it," said Lydia as she headed for the door.
With a sigh, Michael nodded and began to make his way over to the commons area with Lydia walking next to him. They found Aluna sitting at one of the tables, casually typing away at her laptop, taking care of correspondence and following up on items from the office.
"Have you seen Red?" he asked her as he came up to her table.
She looked up at him with a smile. "Of course I have."
"Would you mind telling us where she is? I don't want her wandering off," he said, sounding a little exasperated at the vague answer he'd gotten from her. Lydia kept quiet as she listened in on the conversation.
"Oh she won't be wandering too far for a while," said Aluna as she continued typing something with a little flourish.
With a deep sigh, Michael showed his impatience, "Well? Where is she?"
"Right behind you," said Aluna as she waved in a vague direction, not even looking up from her laptop.
Michael and Lydia turned in sync to look over their shoulders. In the semi-dark of the lounge area, lit only by the vending machines against the wall was a sprawled out form on the old couch someone had drug in some time back.
Lydia turned back to Aluna as Michael made his way quietly towards the sleeping form, "How long has she been here?"
"At least an hour," replied Aluna as she finished her work and closed the laptop.
Red was on her side, one leg bent slightly, the other straight out along the couch. One arm stuck straight out over the edge of the cushions while the other was tucked up under her head. Her mouth was slightly open and she was breathing deeply. Her face was relaxed, showing her to be a little younger than one might expect.
"She was out on her feet after about an hour I brought her in to rest for a bit," said Sam, approaching the rest of them. "I got her sitting down and the next thing I know, exhaustion and gravity took care of the rest." He smirked, looking rather pleased with himself.
Michael tilted his head slightly as he watched her sleep, "You know, she's kind of cute when she's sleeping."
TBC -
