Ghosts

Depending on one's perspective, it was either very late or very early by the time Hawke and Michael got back to the cabin. In the pre-dawn moonlight, they could just make out the bulk of Airwolf, netting covered, waiting behind the building.

They went in quietly, but Caitlin stirred, lifting her head sleepily from her mound of pillows and blankets. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Go back to sleep,” Hawke told her quietly. Once she had laid back down, he gestured Michael off to the side. “I'm going to go up and catch a few hours, myself,” he said, in a low voice. “Suggest you do the same.”

Michael nodded. “I'll see you in the morning. Or should I say, later in the morning.”

Hawke climbed the stairs to the loft. Some impulse made him stop and look back downstairs.

Michael kicked off his shoes, and eased himself down beside Caitlin. Mostly asleep, she sighed contentedly, relaxing against him as he pulled a blanket over both of them.

With something that wasn't quite a pang of jealousy, Hawke looked away and went in to bed.

-*-

Caitlin had a late breakfast started by the time the two men were awake. “What time did you guys get in?” She had a vague memory of Michael crawling into the nest of blankets with her, but no idea what time it had been.

“Around four.” Hawke poured coffee as Michael followed him into the kitchen, sliding a cup across the counter to the agent.

“Thanks.” He sipped at the coffee. “We've got Airwolf. Now what?”

“Two things. One is that I need to get back in the air. The other is to find Horn.”

“There might be a way to combine the two,” Caitlin said, pushing breakfast across the table as she sat down. “I was thinking about it on my way back here last night. Rather than finding Horn, how about we let him find us?”

“What do you mean?” Michael asked, trying to stifle a yawn.

“Horn doesn't know where Airwolf is, but he's got to figure that without a crew, she's grounded and no longer a threat . If Airwolf is seen flying around -- then she becomes a threat again, and he'll come looking.”

“No.” Michael put his fork down.

“Why not?”

“Horn knows you can fly Airwolf. He thinks String is dead. That puts you right in his cross hairs.”

“Agreed,” Hawke nodded. “If anything, I want Horn after me, not you.”

“And you're going to get that how? Think about it. Once your brother hid Airwolf, as far as anyone knew, I became the best chance of finding it. Maybe the only chance. Heck, that's why Zeus sent Michael and I out here. That makes me a target, in and of itself. But we know something nobody else knows. String, you're our element of surprise.” She needed to make them understand that it was the only way to get to Horn. “I need to be the bait.”

“Even if I were to agree with you...” Michael held up his hand to stall her reply. “And I'm not saying I do. It brings us to another problem. Horn's not going to be the only one who''ll hear about it if Airwolf is seen publicly. The Firm will, as well.”

“What if we deny that we've got her?” Caitlin asked.

“They'll assume that someone else has, and blow her out of the sky the first chance they get,” Hawke stated, looking at Michael as if waiting for the agent to deny it.

Caitlin, too, looked at her husband. He had that look on his face, the one he got when he was thinking something through. “There might be a way to take the Firm out of the picture,” Michael said, finally.

“Well?” Hawke demanded impatiently when the agent didn't continue.

“If the Firm believed they weren't actually seeing Airwolf.”

The pilot sighed. “I don't suppose you'd like to elaborate?”

“Sorry, Still thinking this out.” He glanced at Caitlin. “And I still don't like the idea of dangling you in front of Horn.” Michael sipped at coffee that was undoubtedly starting to grow cold. “There's another Airwolf. At least there was, back when I was running the division.”

“What do you mean, another Airwolf?” Hawke came half-way off his chair, whatever camaraderie he had found with Michael forgotten.

Michael waved him back to his seat. “Not a real Airwolf, so to speak. Let me start from the beginning. Remember, Airwolf was initially created as a prototype. The plan was to build copies for other government agencies and recoup our investment.”

The pilot was growing impatient again. “We know all that. How does it explain a second Airwolf?”

“The second helicopter was essentially a mock-up. A visual representation to park on the showroom floor. It looked like Airwolf, but had none of the armor, weapons, turbos or other equipment that makes Airwolf special.”

“So how does that help us?” Hawke wasn't following Michael's thinking.

“If we can get Zeus to give us the mock-up, we can claim that any reported sightings are simply that, and not the real Airwolf.”

“Yeah, but if you ask for use of the fake, he'll know you're up to something.”

Michael stroked his mustache, the corner of his mouth rising in a half-smile. “That's why I need to make him think it's his idea. Hawke, can I use your phone?”

The look on Hawke's face said that he still didn't have a clue what the agent was planning. “It's behind the bar.”

Finishing the last of his coffee, Michael crossed the room and retrieved the phone. He dialed the number from memory. “Hello, Admiral?” Caitlin heard him say. “I need a favor.”

-*-

Michael stalked through the corridors of Knightsbridge, past what was once his office. He glanced in as he passed, seeing the garish multi-colored carpet someone had installed. When and if he got his office back, that rug would be the first thing to go.

The handful of ibuprofen he'd taken had kicked in, easing the pain in his knee. It wouldn't do to hobble into the Director's office. Zeus had no idea that he'd spent the last two days slogging through the woods and scaling a missile silo, and Michael fully intended to keep it that way. He stopped outside the door to the Director's outer office and adjusted his tie, then opened the door and went in.

“Michael, it's so good to see you!” The older woman got to her feet, coming around her desk to sweep him into a hug.

“It's good to see you, too, Helen,” he said with true affection. Zeus might be a blood-sucking bastard, but his long-time secretary was a peach. “I think your boss is expecting me.”

“He is. He said to buzz you in as soon as you arrived.” With some apparent reluctance she released him and keyed the intercom, speaking into her headset. “He's here, sir.” She looked up, motioned toward the door. “Go on in.”

Michael taped once and opened the door, not waiting for a response.

The Director remained seated behind his massive walnut desk, obviously remembering Michael's earlier rebuff. Michael dropped impudently into the chair before it, leaning back, posture relaxed.
“You wanted to see me?”

“What's the status of the search?”

“I can give you a list of places where Airwolf isn't. St. John Hawke had a lot of secrets, a lot of acquaintances. Some of them aren't so easy to track down.” All of which was perfectly true, as far as it went.

Zeus scowed, leaning forward. “We have a situation.”

Michael remained silent, keeping his expression carefully neutral.

“Apparently, there is a rumor circulating at the DOD that we've lost the helicopter. Now the military is out looking for it.”

Gotcha. He owed the Admiral a box of cigars. Cubans. “If we can't find it, it's unlikely that they will.”

“You're forgetting that the military has virtually unlimited manpower. We do not. They have the capacity to turn over every rock in North America and look under it. Even a blind squirrel finds the occasional nut.” Zeus templed his fingers. “We need to quash that rumor.”

“You have something in mind?”

“We make it appear that we still have control of Airwolf. I'm going to have one of our pilots bring the old mock-up out and put in some flight time in it.”

This was the tricky part. “You'll have your pilot coordinate with me? On the remote chance that it turns out someone else does have Airwolf, I'm going to need to know which sightings are real and which are not.”

Zeus sat back, and Michael could see that he was considering his options. “Let's make this simple. Bring back the Long Ranger we loaned you, and take the mock-up instead.”

Like taking candy from a baby. Zeus had never been particularly happy with the idea of Caitlin flying the Firm's helicopter. Offering him an attractive alternative nearly guaranteed that Zeus would do exactly what Michael wanted. However, it wouldn't do to seem too eager. “How long has that thing been sitting? Is it even airworthy?”

“”I'll have it checked over and serviced. We'll make the swap in the morning.”

-*-

Michael had stripped off his jacket and tie, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. As the only one who wasn't going to be doing any piloting in the coming hours, he had availed himself of a glass of Hawke's wine. The mock-up sat waiting on the dock, while the real Airwolf still lurked under cover behind the cabin. “We seem to have an extra helicopter. Any ideas on where we can stash it?”

Caitlin and Hawke were drinking soda. Hawke grinned. “Maybe Cait could put Junior,” he cocked his thumb toward the dock, “Back down in the silo.”

Michael assumed the pilot was joking, but he wasn't taking any chances. “Over my dead body.”

His wife nodded her agreement. “One trip to that place was enough for anyone.”

The agent raked his memory, searching for some place large enough, somewhere that no one would connect to Hawke or any other members of the Airwolf crew. He scowled, finally. “I do know a place. I don't like the idea, but it will work.”

“Where?” It was Caitlin who asked the question.

“My father used to breed race horses. There's a huge barn on his property. It hasn't been used in years. If we slip 'Junior' in there in the middle of the night, he'll never even know it's there.”

Hawke raised an eyebrow. “Didn't know you had relatives.”

“As far as I'm concerned, I don't,” Michael answered, in a tone that made it clear he had no desire to discuss it further.

“Okay.” The pilot apparently decided not to push it. “How far is this place, and how do you want to do it?”

Michael gave him a look. “You ready to knock that rust off?”

“Yeah.”

The agent set his glass on the table. “Come on, Cait. Let's go see just how rusty he really is.”

-*-

Michael slid behind the engineering console, tugging the helmet over his head. an unexpected wave of nostalgia washing over him. He had only flown with Hawke in Airwolf a handful of times, but he realized abruptly just how much he had missed it. Jason Locke had kept a much more “hands on” approach to the helicopter, and Michael suddenly wondered why he hadn't done the same. Hawke might well have allowed it – he had, after all, asked Michael to accompany him to Mexico when Santini was used as a hostage. That might have been an opening, an opportunity he never even considered following up on.

“You ready back there?” Hawke's voice came over the intercom link.

“Whenever you are.”

“You remember how to run those scanners?” The question came with just the trace of a chuckle.

Michael returned the chuckle. “You remember how to fly this thing?” Hawke had successfully flown the mock-up for several hours that afternoon. Now it was time to try the real Airwolf.

In answer, the pilot reached over and hit the start buttons. Airwolf awoke, a creature unfurling it's wings, ready to stretch for the sky. Hawke keyed the radio. “Cait, you with us?”

“On your six,” came the reply over the radio.

Flying at only the reduced speed the other helicopter was capable of, it took almost an hour's time to reach the virtually abandoned ranch. Airwolf swung overhead, searched with her sensors and declared the area clear of any signs of life. They landed the two helicopters outside the barn; the mock-up that Hawke had christened “Junior” closest to the heavy wooden door.

The door was secured by a dead-bolt lock, but Michael produced a skeleton key and made quick work of it. Inside the barn, they found little but cobwebs and rat droppings, the thick layer of dust evidence that the building hadn't been used in years.

Michael paused just inside the doorway, chewing his lip, staring up at the hayloft that ran along one side of the building. Caitlin quietly came up beside him. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I just never expected to come back here. ” He indicated the loft with a tip of his head. “That's where my father caught up with me, the last time.”

The agent's thoughts were interrupted by Hawke's call from outside. “Hey, a little help, you two?”

They went out, and found the pilot preparing to roll “Junior” into the barn. With the three of them pushing at the aircraft, it was relatively easy work. The mock-up weighed considerably less than its fully outfitted cousin.

When they took off again, Caitlin had joined them, filling the co-pilot's seat. “So, how do we get Horn's attention?” she asked, as they headed back toward the cabin.

Michael still didn't like the idea of using her as bait, but as much as he didn't want to admit it, she was right. Horn's automatic assumption would be that she was the one flying Airwolf. They would just have to be sure they protected her.

So where did they start? “Hawke, my understanding is that there were some sort of prior problems that caused your brother to move Airwolf?” Attempts, the Admiral had said. He hadn't specified what sort of attempts.

“They tried to take her. Somehow they got in past the Lair's security system. Twice. Luckily, after the Firm found out where Airwolf was kept, St. John locked the ignition with a password. That was as far as Horn's people got.”

“What evidence do you have it was Horn?” If someone tried to take Airwolf, it could have been anyone, including the Firm.

“The second time, St. John had set up cameras. According to Locke, the Company computers couldn't ID them, but I recognized a couple of the people.”

The agent came back to something Hawke had said. “How did the Firm find the Lair?” Michael had found it by planting a carefully concealed homing device on one of the Santini Air jeeps.

“I don't know. Locke thought it might have been Pixie Dust.”

Pixie Dust – slightly radioactive particles that could be sprinkled on a target, and then tracked using specialized equipment. It wasn't commonly used, but he wouldn't put it past someone at the Firm to try it.

“Besides your brother, who had the password?”

“Jo and I.”

“Not Locke or Rivers?”

“Nope. They were Company,” Hawke replied, using the term the Firm's newer employees preferred. “After the Firm learned the location of the Lair, St. John didn't entirely trust them.”

Probably a good idea. A nagging thought occurred to Michael. “How did you find out the Firm knew where she was?” He had never let on that he knew where Airwolf was hidden. It had served his purposes to leave the helicopter right where she was, and leave Hawke in the dark about what he knew.

Hawke twisted, looking back over his shoulder at the agent. “Zeus flat out called my brother in and told him. Said that it benefited them all to keep things just as they were.”

That was interesting. “I think I need to stop in at Knightsbridge tomorrow. See if I can get them to give me Locke's files. There might be something in there that suggests who Horn's connection was.” Finding that connection might give them clues toward finding Horn.

-*-