CHAPTER 9

Flinging the jeep around another tight corner and sending the back end drifting, Saint John was beginning to think that maybe he should take up a career in drag racing. Not until he'd found String though.

Catching sight of what he guessed to be rotor wash, he followed it through the dry, sandy desert until it finally led him to the prize he was seeking.

Airwolf was resting alone in the desert, the only obstruction visible for miles, the long rotors shifting slightly in the wind, until he realized there was no wind. Gradually and ever so slowly, they gained momentum, stirring up a large cloud of dust, then slowing again and finally coming to a complete stop once again.

Saint John carefully made his way toward the sleek helicopter, making sure he was easily seen and could be identified so he didn't get shot for sneaking up on String.

Pulling the co-pilot's side door open and peering inside, he caught no sign of his younger brother. Someone had been in here, had to have been, but where were they now?

"String? String are you in here?"

"Yeah," he panted. "I'm back here."

"Ah, String, you look like-"

"Hell," he finished. "Yeah I know, feel like it too. Just wanna get home."

"A hospital more likely," Saint John objected.

String shook his head adamantly despite the nauseating feeling in his stomach.

"Listen, I know you don't like them, I don't either, but you do need to go see a doctor."

"Home - the cabin," he replied breathlessly. "Just get me out of here."

"Ok. I can do that much," Saint John promised.

\A/

Caitlin watched in amazement as the little child slept peacefully. The whole time Hawke had been gone Chance had been acting a little off and definitely not settle. She'd be surprised if he got more than a couple hours of sleep the whole week. She hadn't gotten much either, had been too worried to, but finally she had succumbed to exhaustion. Chance had stayed awake most of the time and even when he slept much of the while he had spent muttering things about his dad and the wolf, a subject that had constantly been on his mind while Hawke had been gone, almost a link, a link she didn't understand, but nevertheless seemed to be there. If there was a connection, his now peaceful, serene attitude should be of some consolation.

\A/

Michael sat at his desk awaiting Delbar's return. The undercover agent from Iran would be coming back for a week long vacation to take care of some business and to relax a little before having to go back. Hopefully she would bring back some good news on Hawke's condition and whereabouts, or better yet, bring back Hawke himself.

Samantha came into the office and announced Delbar's arrival.

"Please, send her right in," Michael requested.

Samantha nodded and sent the Iranian agent in.

Delbar strode over to Michael's desk confidently/ "got your own big desk, office, and everything I see. Not too shabby."

I've done pretty well here," Michael replied.

"But it looks like you bare a few new battle scars since I last saw you."

"It has been a while," Michael reminded. "But they've all been earned in the line of duty. How about you?" he asked, changing the subject away from himself. "Have you had any recent American visitors in Iran?"

"Wondering if your agent arrived safely, are we? He did. I'm not so sure how far he made it after that though, he didn't even have a scheduled plan figured out or a flight back. Said something about finding something then worrying about getting back. A planned flight wasn't necessary. In my opinion, that is a rather dangerously lax way to deal with theses missions."

"He's not exactly my agent, and he wouldn't even be there if it weren't for his brother being held captive there."

"Brother? You're really falling down on the job, Michael. When I started you wouldn't even let family work together, for this kind of reason. Something about keeping priorities straight or something, maybe?"

"This is a special case, freelance, the usual rules don't apply. Now do you have anything to report or not?"

"Sanjar has practically abandoned his hideout, totally moved out, but not taken anything with him, so I guess he plans to return. And your agent, or whatever you call him, was intending to try stopping him there. We lost contact after that and I don't know what happened. That's all I know, and now if you'll excuse me, I have some business to attend to so I can take the next flight back."

"You're going back immediately?" Michael sounded surprised.

"Yeah, just as soon as possible."

"Might I ask why you are suddenly so eager considering you've spent the last six months trying to get me to get reassigned?"

"Saint John, sir. I told him he could stay at my place if he needed on the way back, and that I'd take care of any medical issues either of them might have."

"Do you understand the security risk that you would be taking?"

"Most definitely. But a promise is a promise. You surely understand that with your 'freelance agents' Stringfellow and Saint John Hawke, don't you?" she added with a wicked grin.

"How much did he tell you?"

"Just about anything I wanted to know."

"So taking them in wouldn't be much more risk than you are yourself."

"Pretty much."

"Fine. Complete any necessary business here and report back to Iran immediately. The remainder of your vacation time will be used after you make sure the Hawke's make it out and you will be reassigned to a new location."

"Thank you."

"Delbar, I wouldn't try that again. The next person you have to deal with most likely won't be near as accommodating."

"Got it," she answered briefly.