Airwolf – Terminal Velocity
Chapter Six
It had been a long day of varied activities, with no chance to get the slightest bit bored, and spirits were still running high amongst the trainees, after their jaunt out on the town the previous evening.
They had taken part in various classes in the morning, focusing on the new targeting software and communications scanning and jamming equipment, new commands having been added to the software programme, and the manual updated to reflect those changes, and then the group had split up to follow their scheduled routine for physical and psychological evaluations, and then, after a welcome rest period, they had reported to the surface and transferred by jeeps to the airfield, and their respective new aircraft, three now, so that all three crews could fly together, and had enjoyed an hour long flight.
Another milk run, which saw them returning home with the onset of dusk.
Invigorated by the flight, just being back up there amongst the clouds in the wide blue yonder, they had all made their way to the mess hall for chow.
For once, the meal was a pleasant experience, the food reasonable and piled high, the company mellow and jovial, once Shaw and McCrea had gotten their respective devils out of their systems, after teasing each other and the catering staff.
The guys were all laughing and joking around as they ate and drank coffee, still chuckling over the antics of the drunken old geezer in the bar the previous evening.
The gall of the man.
Thinking he could take on the Army, the Navy and the Air Force ….
And, whom, Roger Dobbs found himself hoping, had managed to escape the bar without further incident, and had holed himself up in his hotel room, gotten his head down and got a good night's sleep, laying low while he waited for Archangel to get back to him with the details of the background checks he had suggested they run, on Eugene Webber and Dr Sara Sykes.
Speaking of the good doctor, their paths had crossed several times during the day, but somehow, although he wasn't sure if it was purely his imagination, Roger Dobbs could not help getting the feeling that there was something odd about the way she was acting around him.
He knew, that she knew full well that he had seen her in the bar last night ….
And that he knew that she had seen him too ….
Was she feeling ever so slightly guilty?
She certainly appeared to be suffering from a deplorable lack of curiosity.
But then again ….
Despite the fact that he was dying to ask her about the previous evening, and the questioning looks she kept aiming in his direction, almost as though she were daring him to come out with it ….
Neither of them broached the subject.
They carried on as normal.
Watching each other when the other did not think they were being observed. Furtive, surreptitious glances, occasionally catching each other's eyes ….
Eyes darting away quickly again ….
Evading the issue.
Like a couple of kids.
But Roger Dobbs still couldn't dismiss the notion that she was much cooler in her attitude toward him today.
By the end of the morning, his head hurt, trying to work out why she was the one who was peeved, when it was him who had caught her out with some other guy.
And trying to reason with himself, why it was he felt so miffed about it, as they continued to pussy foot around each other, exchanging a few polite pleasantries, as part of the testing procedures, and had then each gone their separate ways, on to the next task on the days' schedule.
By the end of the day, even the guys had noticed that there seemed to be something of a cooling between Dobbs and the doctor, and naturally they teased him about it, asking him what he had said or done, Malcolm Shaw even going so far as to wonder out loud if Psycho Sara had gone off him ….
Leaving Roger Dobbs in no doubt that they too had spotted Sara Sykes and her companion in the bar the previous evening, and had come to the conclusion that she had thrown him over in favour of the lousy boxer.
When she too had entered the mess hall, not long after the trainees, and had barely managed a nod of acknowledgement in his direction, Dobbs had had to endure even more nudges and elbows in the ribs and sniggers and whispers about Psycho Sara not loving him anymore.
Children.
But, he had been disappointed not to be blessed with that marvellous smile as she carried her tray of food to the other side of the mess hall and sat down with a couple of the nurses from the infirmary, who immediately made some joke, which made her laugh out loud.
Despite that, Dobbs was pleased to see that she was suffering no ill effects from the lab fire.
He hadn't really had much of a chance to look at her last night, although he had been able to see that she had still looked a little pale and shocked, and that it had had nothing to do with her surprise at seeing him enter the bar.
During the day he had watched her, marvelling at how she could simply pick up the pieces and carry on as if nothing had happened, ever professional and confident in her work, she had showed not the slightest reluctance to mix with the trainees, or to go back to the lab where the fire had started.
She was incredible.
And he had been surprised at just how disappointed he had been not to be included in her little jokes and to be blessed with that devilish smile.
And, he had told himself sternly, he didn't have the time, or the right, to be irritated by the fact that she no longer seemed to find him of any interest.
He should be relieved.
He did not need the distraction.
Again their eyes met, briefly, for once, hers were unreadable as she pulled her gaze away from his and concentrated on the food on her plate.
Surreptitiously, through lowered lashes, Roger Dobbs observed Sara Sykes as she pushed her food around her plate, her appetite obviously having deserted her, and feigned interest in the conversation with her medical colleagues, but they were already at the coffee stage of their meal break, and did not stay too long, leaving Sara Sykes to pretend interest in an article in a medical journal she had carried in, rolled up under her arm.
She stubbornly refused to look in his direction.
And curiosity was killing him.
He desperately needed to know who the man she had been with last night was.
Because, Dobbs reasoned to himself, he needed to assess the possible threat, to the project, and to his own position undercover.
His sudden appearance on the scene altered things radically.
What exactly was his interest in Sara?
How long had they known each other?
Was it possible that this was a new relationship, instigated by the guy so that he could use Sara to get to the project?
There was another possibility, Dobbs found himself pondering thoughtfully, midway between lifting his cup to his lips and taking another sip of the coffee he no longer really wanted.
Maybe they were old friends?
Acquaintances?
Lovers?
And, maybe Sara had invited the guy to the bar so that she could end their relationship.
If she did have feelings for him, Dobbs surmised, and if the way she had looked into his eyes when he had carried her out of that smoke filled lab was any indication ….
The way her soft lips had caressed is shoulder as she snuggled her face into him.
The way her lips had moved so sweetly and welcomingly against his own, if only briefly ….
She was not completely immune to him.
Nor he to her, he silently conceded to himself.
Maybe ….
Maybe she had decided that it would not be fair to keep the other guy dangling. Perhaps she had realised that what she felt for him was simply not enough after all, that she did not care about him enough to continue their relationship?
And maybe now she was having second thoughts?
Regretting her hasty decision?
So, what had happened to make her change her opinion of him, so quickly and so radically? Dobbs scratched absently at his chin and mused silently to himself.
Oh hell! She was a dame, wasn't she! She didn't need a reason.
And sitting there tying himself in knots over it wasn't going to help him do his job here!
Which was finding a saboteur, and a ruthless, cold blooded murderer and putting a stop to him, or her, before they did any more damage.
At last, most of his colleagues had drifted away, replenished by their meal and still high on adrenalin, eager to get into a poker game in the ready room.
They had included Dobbs in the invitation to join them, but he had tactfully declined, leaving Chuck McCrea to speculate aloud if maybe the Major thought he might get lucky elsewhere?
His knowing blue eyes drifting briefly, and meaningfully toward where Sara Sykes stared absently into space.
"At the risk of getting my head handed back to me," Frank Campbell had leaned in to whisper into his ear, as he had risen from his seat at the dining table. "You two aren't fooling anyone," he had chuckled. "Sometimes, you just have to bow to the inevitable. Good luck, Major," and he had departed, giving Dobbs a knowing wink.
Damn. Dobbs found himself thinking acidly, as he watched his colleagues leave the mess hall.
Was it that damned obvious that he couldn't keep his mind off her?
Couldn't even keep his eyes off her!
And given half the chance, probably wouldn't be able to keep his hands of her either!
But then, he registered the fact that his Army bunk mate had said, that the two of them weren't fooling anyone ….
So, was it possible that it wasn't just his imagination?
Had he been reading the signals correctly after all?
Was she just as interested in him too?
Maybe he wasn't so out of practice as he had first thought, and he did still know how to play the game.
Unbeknownst to him, a smug smile began to tug at his lips, as he found himself clinging to the hope that Sara had indeed invited the lousy boxer out to the bar so she could dump his sorry ass.
After several minutes of watching Sara Sykes staring into space, and sipping at his now cold, bitter coffee, Roger Dobbs had just decided to call it a night, when he noticed that Sara Sykes attitude had seemed to change.
She seemed anxious and nervous all of a sudden, glancing down at her watch, and chewing nervously on her lip as she cast a furtive glance around the mess hall to see who was still around.
She made a great show of rolling up her medical journal and tucking it under her arm as she gathered together the debris of her meal and took her dirty dishes back to the counter, still glancing around nervously although obviously trying to avoid looking at him, and trying not to look at her watch once more as she did so.
Immediately Dobbs was curious.
No-one else seemed to be taking any notice of her. Her actions seemed to be perfectly normal, but Dobbs could not help feeling just a little suspicious.
For a start, she wasn't usually so damned obvious, so conspicuous.
She seemed preoccupied and anxious as she made her way out of the mess hall, and, deciding that he would never have a better opportunity to find out what was troubling her, Dobbs deposited his own dirty crockery and cutlery on to the counter and casually followed Sara Sykes out of the mess hall.
Except that when he got out into the corridor beyond, there was no sign of her anywhere. He glanced firstly up the corridor to his left and then back down it, to his right, and it was then that his sharp, bat-like hearing picked up the soft sucking sound of a door closing.
It sounded like one of the fire doors which closed automatically on door closers, very slowly and sealed tightly against smoke penetration in the event of a fire, the kind located at the bottom of all the stairwells and fire escapes that led to the surface.
Someone had taken the stairwell at the end of the corridor to his right.
Sara Sykes?
Driven by curiosity, and a strong sense of something not being quite right, Roger Dobbs strode casually down the deserted corridor and ducked through the fire door, finding himself on a wide concrete landing on Level Ten, and glanced down the stairs to see if he could catch a glimpse of someone.
Nothing.
He then leaned over the handrail, craning his neck to look up at the concrete stairs leading up to the surface, and was rewarded by a fleeting glimpse of a pair of stiletto heeled black leather shoes and a pair of very shapely legs beneath the hem of a white lab coat and a short black skirt, and he knew that it could only be Sara Sykes.
His heart sank.
Why would she be going up top?
No good reason. He found himself thinking darkly.
Maybe she needed a breath of fresh air?
Maybe she felt claustrophobic, shut away down here, away from the light, the world above, and needed to stretch her legs, feel the vast emptiness of the desert stretching out beyond the confines of the base?
Maybe she had a hankering to see the stars?
He cast around desperately trying to think of a legitimate reason for her to be skulking around outside, breaking the strict curfew regulations that confined all personnel to the building after 21.00
He didn't think that she was a smoker, but, there was just a small chance that she was heading outside for a crafty nicotine fix.
Or, maybe, she was up to no good? A little voice deep down inside, taunted him with a sneer.
No matter how much he might dislike the idea, no matter how hard he tried to fight against the notion, no matter what his personal feelings may or may not be for her, it was still a possibility.
And one that he could not over look.
Dammit!
Maybe she was plotting the next accident …. Incident ….
Maybe she intended to tinker with one of the aircraft …. Or one of the vehicles stored up top?
Or, maybe she was going to meet with him, the guy from the bar?
A clandestine, romantic rendezvous?
If that was so, Dobbs told himself, then he would simply melt away into the shadows and leave them to get on with it.
He was no voyeur, and had absolutely no desire to watch Sara Sykes with her lover.
However, there was another possibility.
Maybe Sara wasn't the innocent he thought that she was, and she was involved in this dirty business up to her pretty ebony hairline.
What if the guy was her paymaster?
Her accomplice?
Bitter bile rose up in the back of his throat at the thought.
Sara Sykes, a traitor?
A cold blooded murderess?
No!
She had been an innocent victim.
But, then again, maybe she hadn't.
Maybe she had been very clever.
Maybe she had deliberately placed herself in danger so as to be discounted as the possible saboteur.
He didn't want to believe it, but, he couldn't get away from the fact that it had been very convenient.
And that maybe she had made cow eyes at him all this time, to get him on her side.
To make him an ally.
So that he would protect her.
Defend her.
Should the finger of suspicion begin to turn in her direction.
She had played him for a fool.
Damn.
Damn.
Damn!
No, he could not believe that his instincts had been so wrong about her.
If he had been duped, then he needed to see it with his own eyes.
Quietly and covertly, hugging the shadows that ran along the walls of the cement stairwell, keeping back and out of sight, soft footed, Roger Dobbs made his way up the stairs, listening out for her soft footfalls, just in case she took an exit other than the one that would lead to the surface, certain that his prey was indeed Sara Sykes when he caught a whiff of her distinctive, delicate perfume, as he crossed a landing a couple of flights up, still lingering in the air, where she had perhaps stopped to get her breath back after the climb.
At last he heard the metallic clang of a heavy metal fire door as it closed behind her, echoing eerily around the concrete stairwell, and not wanting to let her get too far ahead of him, Dobbs sprinted up the last two flights of stairs, never more grateful for the punishing exercise regime he was forced to endure day in and day out, for it meant that he was barely out of breath as, ten flights up, he opened the door very carefully and peeked out into the inky darkness of the desert night.
The air was still warm and balmy and the breeze carried the distinctive promise of the ocean a very long way away.
There was no moon tonight, but millions of diamond bright stars winked and shimmered in the velvet blackness overhead.
The compound, deadly quiet and devoid of life, was dimly illuminated by tiny spotlights, highlighting each of the buildings, throwing them into stark relief against the utter blackness of the desert night.
Out of the corner of his eye, Roger Dobbs spotted his quarry as she moved purposefully across the compound to the huddle of buildings that he knew housed the garages, motor pool and fuel dump.
Damn!
She wouldn't be going for a crafty cigarette that close to the fuel dump, he felt sure, as he watched her slip into the shadows beside the vehicle shed, and he felt his anger and his outrage ignite deep inside his belly, at the realisation that his guts had indeed been wrong this time.
Never judge a book by its cover. He thought sourly.
Even the most beautiful people in this world turned out to have the blackest hearts.
Sometimes.
So, he had been wrong about Sara Sykes.
Influenced by a pair of unusual and exotic eyes, and a charming, endearing and charismatic smile.
He wouldn't be the first, or the last.
Matahari ….
Now he needed to know what had drawn her from cover and brought her out into the desert night.
He could only come to one conclusion.
She was indeed meeting someone.
Again, clinging to the shadows, hunkering down to keep himself small and low, Roger Dobbs crossed the compound on swift, silent feet, casting furtive glances around him as he went, wanting to be sure that he was not being observed, and pausing, briefly to lean against the garage wall, the heat of the day still radiating from the adobe and cement brickwork, as he heard a dog's plaintive howl in the distance.
A security patrol, out walking the perimeter.
And then, a few seconds later, an answering howl, thin and high pitched, carried a great distance by the desert breeze, belonging to a lone coyote or wolf.
And then there was only silence.
A shudder running down his spine, and with his heart beating erratically in his chest, Roger Dobbs suddenly realised that there might still be yet another explanation for why Sara Sykes had been acting so suspiciously, so nervously.
That she might yet be an innocent victim in all of this.
What if, having failed the first time around, the saboteur had somehow lured Sara out here on some pretext or another?
And meant to try again!
Dobbs still couldn't work out why exactly anyone would want her of the way, but he leapt at the chance to quash all those negative feelings and doubts about Sara Sykes, and a survival instinct that he had relied on to keep him alive for more years than he could remember.
She had been behaving oddly because she had known that something was not right, but curiosity, and possibly the hope that she might be able to bring the culprit to light, had led her to walk straight into a trap.
Fully convinced that that was the only explanation that made any real sense, he was suddenly terrified for Sara Sykes.
Anxious that some new horror had befallen her.
Uncaring about subterfuge or stealth anymore, Roger Dobbs forgot to be cautious and quiet as he scurried out of the shadows at the corner of the garage shed and fetched up around the corner, her name anxiously on his lips.
"Sar ….Argh!"
Before he had a chance to finish, he was suddenly flying through the air, something or someone having grabbed a hold of his arm roughly, and using his own momentum against him, had thrown him, gambolling him head over heels, to land with a sickening thud, his breath escaping his lungs rapidly in a loud gasp as he was badly winded, and found himself lying flat on his back, the shimmering diamond like stars in the night sky not the only flashing lights he could see, as bright spots of white and blue light exploded before his eyeballs.
He blinked rapidly, trying to draw in precious breath and work out what had just happened, but he was still too dizzy and disorientated to make any real sense of it.
Trying to work out where his assailant might be lurking, and from which direction the next attack might come ….
If the attacker had gone after Sara ….
And as his vision cleared, and he began to come to his senses, he also became aware of someone coming to stand over him.
"Sara?" He choked out, tasting desert sand in his mouth now, watching as her face swam briefly before coming into sharp focus at last.
"Hello, Roger. What are you doing down there?" Her tone was all innocence.
"Admiring the view," he let out a deep sigh, brushing a tear from the corner of his eye, as he regarded her lovely, innocent face with a deep feeling of distrust.
"Nice evening for it," she smiled, but it wasn't the charming, endearing and enigmatic smile that he had grown used to seeing light up her face.
It was the cold, calculating smile of a predator waiting to pounce.
Dobbs found himself frowning up at her, wondering why she hadn't asked him what had happened.
Feeling his heart sink in his chest once more, as he had a horrible feeling that he was missing something, that she knew exactly what had happened.
"Oh no, please …. Don't get up," she placed her leather encased foot in the centre of his ribcage, pushing him back down into the dirt as he tried to sit himself upright.
"No, I mean it, please, don't try to get up. Nasty fall you had there. Should be more careful, Rog. Could have done your self a mischief. No," she again shoved her foot into his chest. "Get your breath back," she applied still more pressure to the centre of his chest with her foot. "And then perhaps you can tell me what the hell you are doing sneaking around up here?" She glared down at him, her eyes almost black now in a face that showed no sign at all of humour or levity.
Unforgiving eyes.
Suspicious eyes.
She was suspicious of him, Dobbs realised in incredulity, as she continued to pin him down on the sandy ground with her foot.
"I wasn't sneaking around," he managed to protest at last, dragging air into his aching lungs.
"Oh really?" she tapped her toe impatiently against his ribcage and raised her eyebrow indicating disbelief.
"I was …. Well …. I was …. following you, sneaking around!" He growled now, irritated at being pinioned to the ground by someone who obviously thought that he was the one who was up to no good.
To his surprise, she allowed herself a small smile at his remark.
"Care to tell me what you are doing sneaking around up here?" He countered.
Touché.
He deftly turned the tables on her now, hoping to buy himself a few precious moments to think.
"I wasn't sneaking, Roger. I'm just taking the air. Enjoying a nice evening stroll," she lifted the toe of her shoe from the front of his flight suit and moved out of the way, offering him her hand as she did so.
"Let me help you up," she offered and although he still wasn't sure how or why things had gotten out of control so easily, he accepted her hand gratefully.
She was stronger than she looked, Dobbs found himself thinking as he grasped her hand and in next to no time at all, she gave his arm a strong tug, hauling him to his feet, however, her momentum did not stop there, and in the next instant, Dobbs found himself sailing through the air, as she deftly leaned forward, throwing all her weight behind the move, and tossed him without any obvious signs of effort, neatly over her shoulder, and he again landed on his derriere in the desert sand, a startled gasp jarred out of him once more as he found himself on his back, seeing still more stars.
He let out a deep groan and closed his eyes, sinking back against the sandy ground, hoping that his blurred vision would clear when he opened them once again, but before he could open his eyes once more, he felt something pressing, only very lightly, against his Adam's Apple, and his eyes flew open, startled, to find Sara Sykes standing over him, this time the toe of her shoe pressed against the column of his throat.
"Time to 'fess up, Roger," she told him coldly. "Tell me what the hell you are doing here, or I'll crush your windpipe," she promised.
"Kinda …. Hard to do …. With your foot in my throat," he gasped out, gagging as he felt his throat closing.
"Mmmm. You do have a point," she captured her lip briefly between her teeth and after a moment's pause, slightly released the pressure of her toe against his throat. "I'm waiting …."
"Sara," he began, but stopped as they both heard the unmistakeable whine of a rather large dog, this time much closer than before.
Sara Sykes glared down at him, and he knew that she was wondering what he would do next.
Would he call out?
Give her away?
"You were saying, Rog?" She prompted, her tone sarcastic and impatient now and he could plainly see the war going on behind her eyes.
To trust him or not to trust him.
To go with her gut feeling that he was an okay guy ….
Or to accept that her suspicions about him were valid.
Was he a hero?
Or a villain?
And suddenly, Roger Dobbs understood what was happening here.
She thought he was the traitor!
Hot damn!
She had lured him out here to try to flush him out.
Because, like him, she had not wanted to believe that she could be so wrong about a man she had instinctively liked, respected and desired.
She thought he was a murderer!
As he had thought she was.
But was that really the answer to the question, what had brought her out here tonight?
Could he trust her?
Could he persuade her to trust him?
At the moment, he realised, he did not have a whole lot of choice.
Tossed around like a rag doll by a woman who probably weighed no more than a hundred and twenty pounds dripping wet!
If it wasn't so damned embarrassing, it could have been funny.
"Oh I'm sorry, still got something stuck in your throat," she took her foot away from his windpipe now and glared down at him, angered it appeared, by the fact that she could now see amusement sparkling in his deep blue eyes.
"I was worried about you," he let out a deep sigh, after clearing his throat, and again the dog let out a loud whine.
Followed now by the distinctive sound of heavy footfalls.
The guard getting closer.
"Sara? Did you hear what I said? I was worried about you," he kept his voice low and soft, his expression neutral, silently imploring her to believe that he had been genuinely concerned for her wellbeing.
She gazed down at him, her eyes boring into him, and he sensed that she was trying to decide just how sincere he was being.
But, then she became distracted, and he felt his heart sink, as he too became aware of the sound of a large dog straining against a leash.
"Oh crap," she spat out and quickly removed her foot from his throat. "If you know what's good for you, flyboy …. Just keep your mouth shut and play along."
Time to see just how good you are at thinking on your feet, girl!
She again offered him her hand and this time he regarded it with a healthy degree of suspicion.
"What is this Sara? Some weird English courtship ritual?"
"Very funny, Roger Ramjet," she threw him a scathing look.
"You really think I'd be dumb enough to fall for that a second time?" Dobbs sneered.
"Give me your hand, Roger, I promise not to break it. Cross my heart and hope to die," she quickly licked her right index finger and then used it to draw it across her ample bosom as she hissed through her teeth. "Oh for crying out loud, man!"
She leaned down and with more strength than Roger Dobbs would have thought possible, gathered together huge handfuls of his flight suit and digging her heels in, used her own weight and all her strength to haul him roughly to his feet.
"I don't have time for this!" She growled, twisting the material of his flight suit tighter in her fists as she pulled him closer.
Bracing himself for another assault, Roger Dobbs was again caught off guard, as instead of finding himself being tossed over her shoulder once more, he felt her strong arms shoving him backward, propelling him roughly back toward the rough adobe wall of the garage shed until his back was pressed hard against the rough cement, feeling once again the heat of the day still radiating out of it and through the material of his flight suit, and then suddenly Sara Sykes was also pressing herself against him, her hot sweet smelling body moulding its self to the contours of his own as her lips suddenly locked on to his.
"Just relax flyboy and let me do the talking," she breathed warmly against his lips, slipping her long arms around his neck, cupping the back of his head and drawing his lips even closer to her own, her lithe, slender body fitting perfectly to his, as she began to kiss him deeply and passionately.
"What the hell …. Halt! Who goes there!"
A deep, rough male voice suddenly demanded, bellowing from the shadows on the other side of the garage shed, and immediately Roger Dobbs could hear the ragged, gasping pants of the guard dog, as it strained against its handler's hold on its leash, jaws snapping as he snarled and drooled and writhed to try to get free of the leash.
"Oops," Sara Sykes reluctantly dragged her lips away from Dobbs, her pupils dilated so that those gorgeous violet irises had almost completely disappeared, and then, acting flustered and embarrassed and coy, trying to fix her mussed hair with one hand and adjust her clothing with the other, deliberately giving the patrolman the impression that they had been getting into some serious canoodling ….
She turned to the patrolman, blushing in shame and embarrassment, and Roger Dobbs found himself marvelling at her acting abilities.
Wondering why she hadn't just taken the opportunity to hand him over to the cavalry.
"Sir? Ma'am?" The patrolman stammered, yanking on the dog's leash once more to try to control him, pulling him back to his side and ordering him to sit with a hand command, as he looked from one to the other of them.
Watching both of their faces, the woman looking embarrassed and shocked, the man looking completely nonplussed, the young sergeant tried desperately to hide his own amusement at catching them in such a compromising position, unaware as he did so of Sara Sykes digging the spiky heel of her stiletto shoe into Roger Dobbs instep to stop him from speaking.
"Sergeant," Sara coughed to clear her throat, briefly, somehow managing to act like a shy teenager caught necking on the front door step by an outraged, disapproving parent.
"Ma'am. You shouldn't be here …."
"Ah, Sergeant, can't you give us a break? Please?" She implored, wringing her hands now.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am. This is a serious breach of security," the guard told her, his tone sympathetic. "You must both be aware of the curfew, and that the compound is out of bounds after dark. I'm afraid I am going to have to report this to the CO," he advised solemnly, and if he thought it strange that the Major was letting the woman do all the talking, he wisely kept his thoughts to himself.
"But Sergeant," she stammered again, her chin starting to wobble now and her voice cracking slightly. "You don't understand ..."
"Ma'am …. I am sure that you are going to enlighten me."
The young man let out a deep sigh of resignation now, wondering what tale of woe she would come out with, and trying to decide how much of it he would share with the others back in the guard house.
"Well, you see," she faltered again now, and swatted at an invisible tear sliding down her cheek. "Oh damn. Looks like the cats' out of the bag anyway, honey," she let out a deep sigh now. "Sergeant. The Major here, well, the Major and I …."
"Yes Ma'am. I saw the Major and you ..." The young man wrestled with a smirk now, leaving the embarrassed lovers in no doubt about what he had seen.
"But, it's all right, Sergeant. What I mean to say is. Oh shoot! We weren't doing anything wrong …."
"Oh really? At the very least it is fraternisation," he contradicted her.
"Oh no, Sergeant. No, you're wrong. I'm a civilian," she corrected, her chin lifting slightly in an air of defiance. "But …. But," she stammered again. "What I am trying to say is. I mean …. Oh dammit, we have a licence for it!" She let out an embarrassed giggle then and this drew a frown from the guard.
"Ma'am?"
"We're married, Sergeant. To each other!"
And now Roger Dobbs let out a startled little gasp of surprise, which was then followed by a soft gasp of pain as he was rewarded with an elbow in the ribs and the sharp heel of her shoe in his instep again.
"Oh …."
"It's true, Sergeant, but we haven't been able to tell anyone, because we were afraid that they would kick one of us out. We haven't been together very long. Lord knows we didn't have much time for a honeymoon …. Oh Sergeant, please, can't you look the other way? I mean, cut us some slack?" She beseeched, her voice catching in her throat once more, and much to his surprise, Roger Dobbs found himself hoping that she wasn't going too far over the top with her little melodrama.
In a perverse way, he was kind of enjoying the performance.
Wondering how it would feel for real ….
If they had been a married couple, trying to keep their relationship a secret, so that they could be together.
"Look, Sergeant, I couldn't bear it if they split us up. Not now. You see, I just got through telling the Major that we are going to have a baby …."
Her voice caught in her throat then, in a most convincing manner, and she jammed her balled fist into her mouth and turned her head away from the sergeant, so that he would not be able to see that she was fighting not to give into hysterical laughter not weeping, Roger Dobbs was sure, as he felt his jaw drop open in utter amazement.
"Congratulations, Sir, Ma'am," The guard fixed Dobbs with an amused, knowing look then, and Roger Dobbs found himself wondering just how naïve and gullible the young man really was to be buying any of this, as he pinned a weak smile onto his lips.
"Thank you, Sergeant," Sara Sykes gushed now.
"However, Ma'am, it doesn't alter the fact that this is a serious security breach, and I will have to make a full report."
Amusement twinkled in his dark eyes now, as he looked from the Major, who looked to be about as poleaxed and uncomfortable in his own skin as any grown man could be, his lower jaw hanging open, face flushed, lips twisted into the most soppy, self satisfied, smug grin. Mortified to have been caught in the act, even if it was with his own wife ….
Overwhelmed, and obviously overjoyed by their good news.
And the woman, a civilian doctor he now recognised, with a delicate blush on her cheeks, tears shimmering in her eyes, as she silently begged him not to spoil this, their moment of sheer joy …. And to turn a blind eye.
Ah ….
Young love ….
"In the morning," he concluded at last, and saw the relief in the woman's eyes. "Late in the morning," he added after further thought. "Give you folks time to front up to the Colonel and break the news to him yourselves. Go better for you both that way," he pointed out.
"Oh thank you, Sergeant, thank you …."
"Sir, Ma'am, goodnight,"
The young man gave his guard dog another hand command to rise from his haunches, and then he tugged on the leash, drawing the panting, whining animal away.
"And Sir, Ma'am …. as you were," he chuckled and was rewarded by an exclamation of delight from Sara Sykes as she threw herself back into Roger Dobbs arms and began to kiss him deeply once more.
The young guard turned and marched away from the courting couple, a huge grin splitting his face, as he headed back to finish the rest of his patrol, thinking as he did so that the other guys would never believe it.
However, even when the guard was no longer in sight, Sara Sykes continued to kiss him passionately, and despite his confusion at the surreal events of the past few minutes, Roger Dobbs found himself responding, kissing her back with equal passion, and hunger, finally able at last, to succumb to the desire he had felt to taste the sweetness of her lips once more.
Until at last, they had to part, to draw in much needed air.
"He's gone," Dobbs spoke in a low, ragged voice.
"And your point is?" She whispered back, breathing deeply, her chest rising sharply with the intake of breath.
"You can quit the Oscar winning performance …."
"You think this is acting?" She reached out for him once more, taking his face between her hands and drawing his lips back down on to her mouth. "God, I've wanted to do this for so long," she confessed raggedly, as she welcomed his lips against her own.
Roger Dobbs immediately felt him self begin to relax as she wound her arms around him and drew him even closer.
She was crazy.
She really was a psycho ….
But at that moment, Roger Dobbs found that he really did not care, as he revelled in the magical sensations her lips wrought through his whole body.
She let out a soft little whimper of disappointment as he finally pulled his lips from hers, again to take in much needed air.
"Why didn't you wait to be asked?" He whispered, a smile curving at his lips now, as he reached out to stroke her beautiful blue/black hair, wisps of which had escaped her chignon and were caressing the delicate white flesh of her neck and earlobes.
"Because, I would have died of old age before you even got around to thinking about it, jet jockey," she breathed, snaking her arms up around his head and digging her fingers deeply into his hair, bringing his face down close to her own once more, as her lips welcomed his once again.
"Oh God," he let out a deep groan and gave into his need to kiss the breath out of her once more. "Sara …."
And then, suddenly, without warning, she was pulling him away from the wall, and in the next instant had somehow managed to flip him over her shoulder once more, and again the stars he saw over her beautiful head were not all heavenly bodies, and he let out another deep groan.
Here we go again ….
"You know, you could have just slapped my face," he growled sarcastically and dragged in a deep, refreshing breath.
"Cute."
"You kissed me, remember?" He pointed out.
"I remember. I also remember asking you what the hell you are doing here?"
"Becoming a statistic. Actually, a couple of statistics," he grumbled. "A husband and a father …."
"That's not the only statistic you'll become, if you don't answer my questions," she told him in a cold voice.
"My my, Sara, what a nasty temper you have …."
" You ain't seen nothin' yet, flyboy."
"And you were worried about me putting the moves on you," he lay back against the desert sand and closed his eyes, wondering how he should let this play out, utterly confused about whether to trust her or not. "Did you have to marry us off? I mean, why couldn't you just say we were …. Horny!"
"Because, I'm not that kind of girl, and this isn't that kind of date, Roger," she hissed angrily, dark eyes fizzing with indignation.
"Oh really, Mom? For cryin' out loud, Sara! You didn't have to say anything, the poor suck's imagination was doing all the hard work for you!"
"Enough already! Quit stalling and start explaining."
"Maybe I'll just plead the fifth amendment …."
"That only works if what you have to say might incriminate you," she pointed out.
"Legal eagle as well as a doctor, and self defence expert …."
"Lawyer, doctor, injun' chief …"
"Over achiever, huh?"
"So sue me …."
"Sara …."
"Roger …." She mimicked.
"Are we going to do this all night?"
"That rather depends on you."
"I'll tell you what I was doing here, if you'll tell me what you were doing here, first."
"I'll show you mine if you show me yours?" Her tone was incredulous.
"No need to be vulgar, but if you're offering …."
"Ok! That's it! I have other more important things to be doing, flyboy. Maybe you'll feel more like talking to the Colonel …. After you've spent a night in the stockade."
"Sara," he let out a sigh of frustration now, and realised that he probably didn't have any other choice, because if she had doubted her suspicions of him before, all those doubts had gone out of the window.
If she was the traitor, what did it matter if he told her that he had suspected her too?
He had been caught in the act of tailing her, so it was hardly tipping his hand.
And if she wasn't the traitor, and considered that she had the high moral ground, then his fate was probably already sealed.
And hadn't she already proved, quite successfully, that she was more than a match for him in a fight.
Maybe it was time for a little honesty.
Just a little, at least until he knew for certain where he stood with her.
"I told you already, I was concerned about you," he told her gently now, hoping that she would hear the sincerity in his voice, because, after all, it was the truth.
"I'm touched, truly I am," she feigned a yawn.
"Someone already tried to kill you once."
"Someone? How do I know it wasn't you? How do I know you weren't going to try again?" She glared down at him.
"You think I tried to kill you?" He was astonished. "Forgive me, but I believe I was the one who dragged you out of that burning lab," he reminded, cut to the quick by her suspicion and her lack of gratitude.
"How convenient."
"What?"
"How convenient, that you come charging in like Sir Galahad, to rescue the damsel in distress. If you caused that fire, then it would be the perfect way to draw attention and suspicion away from you."
"If I started the fire? Man …. You think I'm the one trying to wreck the project?"
"Aren't you?"
"Hell no!" He snarled up at her now. "But while we're casting aspersions, how do I know it wasn't you who caused the fire? You could just as easily be the one trying to wreck the project, and got yourself trapped in that damned lab on purpose, to draw suspicion away from your self …."
"You think I'm a traitor?" Her tone was incredulous now, as though it was the first time that the notion had even entered her head.
"Aren't you?"
"Hell no!" She shot back.
"So we're back to square one."
"What the hell were you doing out here?" She demanded again, and this time there was a hint of tears in her voice, caused by self doubt, mingled with her anger.
"I was worried about you."
"You know, Roger Ramjet, I might even be prepared to believe you, if, I didn't already know that you are about as trustworthy as a rattlesnake!" She snarled.
"What?"
"You're a liar," she accused.
Dammit, that was getting to be a habit!
Called a liar, twice in as many days, by two people whose opinions meant a lot to him.
"And you can tell that just from the way that I kissed you?" He sneered now, covering his shock at the realisation that he had compared what he felt for Sara with the way he felt about Dominic Santini.
"Quit tap dancing, and start talking!"
"You already seem to have all the answers …."
"Some. Not all," she told him defiantly, and now it was his turn to frown at her. "So why don't you enlighten me? Come on, Roger Ramjet, tell me why it's so damned important for some hot shot stunt pilot, from Los Angeles, to get himself in on this project?" She demanded, triumphantly. "Well, Mr Stringfellow Hawke?"
Roger Dobbs felt his heart skip a beat in his chest and fleetingly wondered how he could possibly have given himself away ….
Then realised that he could not have.
No way.
There was no way that she could just have plucked that name out of thin air.
The only way to come up with Stringfellow Hawke, instead of Roger Dobbs, was if she had been the one to run the check that Archangel had sent Dominic Santini to warn him about.
And to do that, and come up with Stringfellow Hawke instead of Roger Dobbs, she must have ….
"I ran your fingerprints," she confirmed for him. "I'm suspicious by nature and cautious by training," she told him, unaware of the relief flooding through him, as he realised that his first instincts about Sara Sykes had been correct.
If she had access to the kind of equipment that could run fingerprints and pluck Stringfellow Hawke's name out of the hat, it could only mean one thing.
She wasn't the bad guy.
She had to be involved in some form of law enforcement.
"And I am very thorough. I have good instincts about people, usually. Need them in my job, and you …. You didn't add up. You were too laid back, too cocky, just too damned perfect to be true."
"You liked me …."
"Yeah, and that's what set the alarm bells off. I don't usually warm to people so easily. And you, you were way too slick."
"So, you checked me out?"
"I told you already, I'm very thorough, and just because you weren't around when all the bad stuff started happening, it didn't automatically mean that you couldn't be involved, somehow. I don't know what it was about you, all contradiction, so guarded, but so damned curious too. Oh yes, you can walk the walk and talk the talk, but I knew you just weren't right."
She paused to drag in a much needed breath, and all the time his piercing blue eyes never left her face.
"I tried Roger, I really tried not to have doubts about you, as the saying goes, if it walks like a duck and it quacks like a duck then it must surely be a duck. You looked and sounded like the real deal, but …. Dammit, I don't know! Well the more uneasy about you I got, the more I realised I just couldn't sit on my suspicions any more. It wasn't difficult to get your fingerprints, all those specimens you have to provide …. So I finally passed one of your last specimen cartons on to certain friends, in high places, and low and behold, as I said, honey," she spat the term of endearment at him as though it were an expletive now. "The cat is well and truly out of the bag …."
Stringfellow Hawke let out a deep sigh of resignation and lifted his hands up in front of him.
"So what happens now?" He asked quietly.
"You answer the questions."
"I thought you had all the answers, Sara …."
"Some. Are you willing to co-operate Mr Stringfellow Hawke?"
"I can't see that I have any other choice, Sara. Other than the right to remain silent of course …."
"Fine. Exercise that right by all means, and I will exercise my right to get that guard and his dog back here. Maybe Fido could persuade you to answer the damned question!"
"Not until I know who the hell is asking!" He snarled. "How do I know I can trust you?"
"You really do take the biscuit!" She seethed. "Who are you working for?" She demanded.
"Who are you working for?" He countered.
"Oh? Didn't I say?"
"Not exactly, but how's this for a little clever detective work? I'll hazard a guess that you're not plain old Dr Sara Sykes," he told her in gentle tones, keeping his expression neutral. "So, which outfit claims you? Civilian cops or Navy Investigations?"
"Very good, Mr Hawke. Very good. We both know that plain old Dr Sara Sykes couldn't have gotten access to your identity through fingerprints. Oh well, you might as well know the truth. My real name is Georgina Fellows. I am a Major in the US Army Medical Corps, currently working undercover for the Military Police. Now, if you really wish to remain silent, Mr Hawke, I'd better arrest you …."
"Wow!" He stilled her with his slightly raised voice, a frown creasing his brow.
"Now it's your turn. We are still playing show and tell, aren't we?"
"Back up. You're Military Police?"
"Cool your damned burners, jet jockey, and keep your voice down. No need to shout it from the rafters, if I haven't already blown my cover that is …."
"But …. But …."
"Such eloquence, Rog, I mean, Stringfellow. Damn, is that really your name? Stringfellow?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"I've come to expect much better from you. Spit it out. You'll feel so much better afterward. Confession is good for the soul …."
"So's chicken soup. Sara, do you really think that I'm the bad guy?" He asked her softly now. "What were your instincts telling you? You liked me. I know you did. And you thought that you could trust me …."
"How wrong can a girl be?"
"You weren't wrong, Sara. Damn, I've gotten used to calling you that, now I've got to remember to call you …. What? Gina?"
"Georgie," she corrected. "But don't fret over it, you won't be calling me anything for much longer."
"Sara …. Georgie …. You're instincts were correct. You really can trust me. You do have good instincts. Listen to them now. What are they telling you about me? Oh hell, if you really thought that I was the bad guy, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. We wouldn't have given that guard the best laugh he'll have in his entire career, and you wouldn't have been able to kiss me like that …."
"Oh please …. Don't count on it. I'm a pretty good actress …."
"Not that good, and I'm no actor. What you see is what you get. I came out here tonight because I was scared that somehow, the bad guy had lured you out here to try to kill you. I thought you were in danger," he told her sincerely.
"Who are you? Really? And what are you doing here? Really?" She demanded, fixing him with a determined stare, and he knew that it was time to trust her.
"I'm working undercover too, for a government agency called The Firm," he confided now.
"CIA?" she asked in incredulous tones.
"Not exactly, but something like that," he saw the doubt beginning to creep back into her eyes now.
"Look, we can't talk here. That damned guard is going to be back very soon, and no matter how lovey dovey we look, he won't be able to turn a blind eye a second time. Is there somewhere we can go, to talk quietly? And I'll tell you everything."
He could see her weighing up the pros and cons of going anywhere with him, and found himself wondering what else he would have to do to prove his trustworthiness to her.
"No funny business, I promise," he added for good measure.
"Damn, and I was kind of looking forward to throwing you over again."
"Sara, you really can trust me. I may be the only person in this whole damned place that you can trust," he told her softly now, his tone reasonable and meant to be reassuring.
"We're both here for the same purpose. To find out who is trying to destroy this project. To find out who killed two, maybe three people, and who may not be done killing yet. Maybe we can help each other? Sara?"
"I'm thinking …."
"Well, don't take all night. I can hear that damned dog howling again. Truce?"
He held out his hand to her now, indicating that he was willing to trust her to help him to his feet now, without ending up on his ass in the dust once more.
"Oh, all right, but no funny stuff."
"Cross my heart and hope to die."
"Promises, promises. Ok," she finally relented on a deep sigh, after all, now that he knew her true identity, what did she have to lose?
Besides, she couldn't help being curious.
And relieved, for she really had been disappointed and unsettled to learn that she didn't really know him at all.
He wasn't quite off the hook, just yet, but, she could not help feeling that she should give him the benefit of the doubt, unable to stop herself wondering, at the same time, if this acute sense of fair play would one day end up getting her killed.
She owed him a chance to explain, and if his story sounded plausible, she needed to check it out, and square it with the Colonel, for she was sure that Thomas Jardine had absolutely no idea of his true identity, or his purpose here.
"You're right, we can't stay here …. But we can't really talk inside either," she took his outstretched hand in her own, a delicate shiver of excitement running down her spine as his strong fingers grasped her own, as she gave a gentle tug and helped him agilely back to his feet. "I guess it will just have to be the stairwell. That's about as private as it gets around here."
"Fine."
"I'll meet you there in five minutes," she told him as she watched him dusting off the sand from the seat of his flying suit and trying desperately not to grin. "No point drawing any more attention to ourselves than necessary, just yet."
"You're kidding, right?" He eyed her dubiously, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips now. "It's a little too late for that, don't ya think? You have to know that our friend with the pooch is going to reach for the telephone as soon as he gets back to the guardhouse, and call just about anyone who is willing to listen. Probably has everyone on redial! Like you said, the cat is definitely out of the bag."
"All the more reason to keep a low profile, at least until we have no other choice but to act it out."
"Ya think? Maybe we should start out as we mean to go on, honey?"
"What? You mean act like newlyweds who can't keep their hands off each other?" She taunted.
"I already told you, I'm no actor," he reminded.
"So you did," she sighed.
"And I can't just turn it on and off like a faucet, Sara."
"Me neither," she confided. "But I don't think that's an excuse to put on a floor show."
"Is there another choice?"
"Sure, we could clear this up right now. You could march right into Colonel Jardines' office, and tell him what the hell you're doing here."
"You call that a choice?"
"There is a third, Roger, but it could seriously jeopardise your future chances of fatherhood …."
"Ok, ok," he acquiesced with a soft sigh. "You still don't trust me, do you?"
"What do you think? I know you're no rocket scientist, Roger, but even you can work that one out."
"I see I have a little work to do on convincing you," he chuckled softly then. "All right, Sara, have it your way. You're the boss."
It was true.
If she really was military intelligence, this was her show, not his.
"You got that right, Mr Hawke," she gave him a piercing look, then grew thoughtful once more, as though again weighing up the pros and cons.
Damn him, standing there looking so smug and self assured. How she would just love to wipe that smug look off his face ….
With another kiss.
Hey, not now, girl, this is neither the time nor the place!
He seemed so confident that he could explain everything and that she would accept his cover story, that everything would be just fine, but she still hadn't quite accepted that he had a legitimate reason for being here, although, her gut was telling her that he wasn't the bad guy.
If that was the case, then perhaps they would have no choice but to pool their resources and work together.
In that case ….
Damn.
He was probably right. They should start as they meant to go on, so that the initial shock and rush of teasing and ragging would be over and done with and things would settle down again, allowing her to get back to the important business of catching a murderer.
Hawke watched, pensively, frowning when he noticed a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth now.
"What?"
"I sure hope you have a thick skin, because if we do have to resort to our little cover story, there will be lots of joking around and teasing."
Amusement twinkled in her dark eyes, briefly, at the sour look that suddenly crossed his face.
"Better they all find it highly amusing that we are a newly wed couple who can't keep our hands off each other, than feel anger and betrayal when they discover who and what you really are."
"I told you, Sara. I can explain."
"Yes, and fool that I may be, I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and give you the opportunity to do just that. You should count yourself very lucky that you are not in the stockade with your ass in a sling right now."
Dobbs made no response, knowing that she was right.
He was fortunate that she was willing to hear him out instead of doing what any normal, sane person with suspicions and doubts about his credibility would have done, and marched him straight to jail.
"You do realise that if you don't show up in five minutes, the first thing I do is contact Colonel Jardine."
"I'll be there. After all, how can I possibly refuse such a pretty invitation, from the woman having my baby?" He let out a deep sigh, then, regretting his sarcasm, and reached out for her hand once more, relieved when she did not immediately pull it out of his grasp.
"You got the smarts, Sara, so use them," he kept his voice low and soft, his eyes gentle and imploring, needing her to see that he was on the level with her and that he intended to co-operate.
"Something tells me, that if I was really smart, I'd stay the hell away from you," she let out a ragged breath then, but her gaze did not waver from scrutinising his face. "But, it looks like I'm stuck with you. For now."