CHAPTER 4.….. WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE

Climbing into the Huey, the dark haired man clutched the cyclic tightly and directed it toward the American borders.

"Huey," Dom reported, "armed with sidewinders and machine guns."

Hawke wasn't that worried about the machine guns. Unless they hit the main rotor or the tail rotor, the black metallic body of Airwolf would shield them from the fire. The sidewinders were all he really had to worry about.

"Land that thing now," String demanded.

Surprisingly, they other helicopter descended toward the ground. Hawke followed him down, rotor wash flattening the grass beneath them until he touched all three wheels to the ground and waited as the long rotors slowed.

"Where are they?" Hawke asked as the black haired, tan man limbed out of the Huey careful to keep his hands in plain sight.

He said nothing.

String pulled out his Colt .45 and leveled it at the other man. "I said where are the drugs?"

"I know nothing," he denied. "Search the whole chopper if you want just don't hurt me !"

String did carefully search the entire aircraft all the while keeping an eye on the slightly older pilot. He didn't find the drugs or any clues as to where they might be, yet something still seemed suspicious.

"You're free to go," he finally relented.

Climbing back into Airwolf he said, "Dom, scan audio. I didn't find anything, but I'm sure something's up."

Sure enough only minutes later the audio scanner picked them up. "He came close," the voice rasped. "Watch out for him."

"I told you to take care of it," a second voice returned. "Make sure he doesn't get anywhere near us, no matter what you have to do."

"Trace it," String directed. "They can't be far and we've got to stop them."

"Already on it," Dom assured him.

Within two minutes Dom had pinpointed an exact location for the plane, and they started the chase.

Airwolf screamed through thr sky, turbos engaged, nearing her prey. An ordinary looking Boeing 767 came into view.

Dom was just about to warn String not to shoot yet when he asked for thermal scans. "How many people are on board?"

Dom counted the heat sources. "Two. Running other scans. They also have some big cargo aboard; I'll try to find out what it is." Keys clicked away as Dominic typed in orders to Airwolf's computer, otherwise the only sound heard was the quiet hum of the computers.

"They're the ones," he finally confirmed.

The aircraft identification program automatically started running. "We got a blip back here," Dom warned.

"Have an ID?"

The scan stopped on a UH-1 Iroquois. "It's a Huey, armed with sidewinders and machine guns," he paused for a moment, " think it's the same one we just stopped a few minutes ago."

The audio scans intercepted the conversation between the Huey and the Boeing. "I thought I told you to keep them out of the way!" the first yelled angrily. "Now take care of him. He already knows too much, you'll have to take him down permanently."

"Yes, sir," the other answered immediately, fear of his boss echoed through his voice.

The Huey swung around in front of them so fast String had to bank a hard left to avoid plowing straight into them.

While trying to right the swaying caused by Airwolf's prop wash, the Huey's pilot fired a sidewinder toward Airwolf. String yanked back on the stick to avoid the missile trying to attack them. It scarcely missed them and crashed into the ground.

"Another one at three o'clock," Dom warned him. Taking Airwolf into a nosedive they stayed just ahead until coming close to the ground where he pulled out leaving the missile no target.

"Combat mode," String finally got the chance to say between dodging missiles.

"You go it."

In a blur, Airwolf shot upwards then rolled back on herself ending up directly behind the Huey. Snapping the visor down on his helmet, he called for a Copperhead.

Dom loaded one and soon the Huey was nothing more than a flaming fireball.

"Now the plane."

The distraction provided by the Huey had been enough, however, to allow the plane to reach the city. "String, we can't fire on them; we'd take out half the city."

He heaved a sigh beneath the heavy helmet. "Yeah, I know." Firefights were a lot more tricky over a city, but he would do what he could. "Chain guns one and two."

After pressing two buttons, the guns slid out. "Ready."

The plane avoided most the gunfire with some expert piloting.

"He's good," Dom remarked.

String said nothing in reply; instead, he continued firing at the aircraft in front of them. Finally on the engines gave out as a small fire started on the right wing. The plane was forced down landing in short in a large abandoned park.

The pilot climbed out, gun in hand, seemingly oblivious to the fact his gunshots were ricocheting off the armored black skin harmlessly. At last he fired no more-out of ammo. He fumbled around trying to find another clip, but not before a string of warning fire came from the guns on either side of the big helicopter's stubby winglets. String pulled the trigger again. A distinctive click could be heard in the silent cockpit, but no more ammo was left.

Connecting a call to Michael, Hawke confirmed the capture,

"You gong to bring them in?"

"Sorry we only gift-wrap."

"You don't deliver," Michael supplied the rest. "How could I forget?"

"We'll keep 'em here though 'til your boys show up."

"Good job, and thanks. Angel 1 out."

The call ended.

Outside the plane's pilot was attempting to escape. "I'd prefer to not do too much more damage to the city," String sighed abandoning the helmet on the seat and tucking his gun into his belt, "and we've got nothing left in the chain guns, so I guess I'll have to handle this personally." He directed his attention to Dom, still seated at the engineer's console. "Watch the Lady for me, just in case we get some uninvited company."

He slid out of his seat and walked toward the defenseless other pilot, gun drawn.

"Get back to your plane now," he ordered.

"Why?" the other man stalled. "If I do I'll be killed, if not you kill me. Hard choice," he remarked sarcastically, "should I die here or walk fifty feet and die?"

"Just get over their and maybe you'll get out of this with life in prison."

"Joy. Then I can slowly rot in jail; I think I'd rather you shoot me now."

"String," Dom called urgently over the loudspeaker, "get back over here. We've got company."

Armed to the teeth, a Sikorsky flew up.