Ghosts

Hawke sat back, leg propped up in front of him, watching the monitor Michael had borrowed from the Firm. The screen went black as the tape came to an end.

“Run it again, Cait.”

She hit the rewind button on the remote. “I don't know, String. I don't see anything.”

“It's there, I know it is.” Hawke scowled, leafing through a handful of satellite photos while the machine rewound. “I just don't know what I'm looking for.”

Michael had given up after the first half-dozen viewings, knowing that if there was anything in the video, the pilot would find it. Instead, he was seated at the bar, going over the files that had been puled from Locke's computer, hoping that there was some clue there that they had missed. His brow furrowed as he noticed something that seemed unusual. “Did Locke strike you as having a shoe fetish?”

That brought a raised eyebrow from Hawke. “Huh?”

“There were times when he was having his shoes shined on a daily basis.”

Hawke sat up straight. “What do you mean, times?”

“He'd have them done daily for a week or two, then not for a month – then daily again.” The agent looked up from the records. “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?”

“Somewhere dirty. Muddy, maybe. Could be Horn's compound.”

The video had finished rewinding. “You ready to run this again?” Caitlin asked, her finger on the start button.

“Go ahead.”

Hawke leaned forward, watching intently. Michael rose from the bar, joining Caitlin on the sofa. He watched with the others. The landscape was desolate, mostly deserted. Scrub, mountains, more scrub. The occasional old, dilapidated building. The remains of an old mine. More decaying buildings, ruins of... Shit. “Cait, pause the tape.”

She did as he asked, eyes turning to question him. “Michael?”

“Hell, I'd forgotten all about...” He spoke mostly to himself, staring at the screen. “Horn wouldn't have the audacity, would he?”

Hawke studied the image. “Is that where...?”

“Where the Firm built and tested Redwolf,” Michael confirmed. “I think they abandoned the place after Jenkins shot it up and blew the fuel tanks.”

The pilot raised an eyebrow. “Horn would take a certain satisfaction in using the Firm's own facility against them.”

“And Locke would be familiar with the place. Might even have told Horn about it.”

Hawke reached over and took the remote from Caitlin. He ran the tape backwards and forwards, examining the short clip where the buildings were in view. “Those could be tire tracks. And there's not much grass around.”

Instead there was loose dirt, the kind that would soil someone's shoes. “What do you think? Do we need to take a closer look?”

The pilot got up from the chair, favoring his injured leg. “Yeah. Let's do some flying.”

-*-

They were playing it cool. Extending their apparent search pattern, trying to make it appear that they hadn't found what they were looking for the first time. The Redwolf test site was just on the edge of the pattern, seemingly not their main target. As they finally came up on it, Hawke turned to look over his shoulder. “Got the cameras and scanners running?”

“Infrared, trace elements, cameras on high res.” Michael brought the systems to life. “Anything I'm forgetting?”

“Think you've got it. Heads up, everybody, we only get one pass.” Hopefully that one pass wouldn't be enough to alert Horn that they had found his hideout.

As they flew almost directly over the compound, Hawke peered through the windscreen, trying to take in the details. Several long buildings that might have been army barracks, a rusting hanger that had once held Redwolf and could easily accommodate several helicopters. The fueling rig appeared to be in rough shape, but then, so did his dock. Appearances could be deceiving.

In an instant, they were past the site, continuing their mock search pattern. “Get anything?” Hawke asked.

“According to the thermal scan, the long building on the left is full of heat sources. I'd say at least twenty or twenty-five people. Less in it's twin, maybe a half dozen. Looks like only one helicopter in the hanger.”

“I'd expect more from Horn. Even with the Hughes I took down...” Caitlin broke off, seeming uncomfortable talking about the aircraft she'd shot from the sky.

“There's more. I'd bet on it,” Hawke said grimly. “They're out on the prowl. Michael, keep an eye on that.--”

“We've got company!” Michael cut him off. “Hughes 500. Two of them, and they're not the highway patrol.”

“Armament?”

“Guns and heat seekers. Closing on your six,” the agent warned.

“Roger that.” He wanted them closer, close enough that they wouldn't get away when they turned tail and ran.

“They've fired missiles, Hawke. I'm dropping Sunbursts.” One of the missiles bit, following the magnesium flare. The second ignored the bait, following them instead. “Still got one on us.”

Hawke found Michael's voice remarkably calm, given that the man wasn't accustomed to flying into combat. The pilot pulled Airwolf into a Chandelle, climbing sharply. The missile raced past them, slamming into the hillside. At the top of the climb, he kicked her over, descending as sharply as he had ascended. He found the first of the Hughes in his sights. “Give me a Sidewinder.”

“You've got it.”

The pilot thumbed the firing button, sending the missile streaking towards Horn's helicopter. He didn't wait to see the explosion, instead turning Airwolf towards it's other enemy. The Hughes tried to get away, but Hawke was in no mood to allow it. He raked the fuselage, shells chewing into the other ship. It went up in a ball of fire.

“Scope's clear,” Michael announced, breathing what sounded like a sigh of relief. “Now what?”

“We finish our search.” Hawke returned to their pre-determined grid.

“Isn't this a little redundant? We know where Horn is?” the agent asked.

“Yeah, but he doesn't know we know, and I want to keep it that way.”

-*-

“You can't do this alone -- we can't do this alone,” Michael corrected. “The bastard's got too many people, and at least one more helicopter.”

“So what are you proposing?” Hawke eyed him warily.

“Zebra Squad. Let them deal with Horn's militia on the ground.”

“I don't like it.” He glanced up, looking to be sure that Caitlin was still outside walking Tet. “I want Horn. I want to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until his eyes pop out of his head.”

If asked, Hawke would have had a hard time explaining the rage he felt for Horn. St. John's return had, in some respects, been something of a letdown. After so many years of searching, Hawke had been reunited with a brother who had, ultimately, moved on without him. St, John had worked for one of the Firm's sub-agencies for years, without ever contacting him, not even to simply say that he was alive. He had made friends with Locke, who had been playing his own games, games in which Hawke himself was little more than a pawn. The brothers had grown apart, a distance that only widened as the years passed.

Had St. John died on a mission, it would have brought sorrow, but not the burning need for retribution. This was different. Horn had intentionally set up not only St. John but Jo and their Air Force pilot friend as well. He had used someone they trusted against them. That betrayal needed to be avenged, regardless of Hawke's relationship or lack thereof with St. John.

Michael nodded in understanding. “You think I didn't feel that way about Moffet? He slaughtered my people. The technicians at Red Star, Angela... Gabrielle. I wanted the man dead at my hands, every bit as much as you want Horn.”

Hawke remembered the morning Michael had shown up at the cabin, barely able to walk. He winced as he remembered Gabrielle changing the dressings on the agent's back. “You weren't up to it.”

“I wasn't,” Michael admitted. “As much as I wanted to kill him myself, it wasn't possible. I settled. Maybe you need to.”

The pilot let out a long sigh. Maybe Michael was right. He gestured toward the phone. “All right. Call them. We'll do it your way.”

-*-

The Zebra Squad was sending four armed Hueys full of men. Michael hoped it would be enough. Airwolf would lurk at a distance, making sure no one escaped, especially Horn. As far as anyone knew, Airwolf was only the unarmed mock-up, with Caitlin piloting. They would maintain that ruse, if they could.

Hawke followed the Hueys in, staying above and behind them, well out of the line of fire. They monitored the radio traffic on the Firm's private frequency. As they came over the compound, commandos started descending from the helicopters on ropes, rushing the barracks-style buildings.

On the ground, the Firm's people were meeting heavy resistance. Horn's troops were well armed, firing from concealed machine guns. The Hueys joined the fray, raking the gunner's nests with their own fire.

“Company,” Michael announced from the rear seat, as the scanner worked to identify the incoming aircraft. “Two more Hughes 500s.” The agent knew Hawke was itching to join the battle. “The Hueys should be able to handle them.”

The pilot made a low sound that was almost a growl, and his fingers twitched on the stick, but he held his position. They all watched as two of the Firm's helicopters turned to meet the threat. One Hughes went down quickly, spiraling out of control after its tail rotor was destroyed. The second got off a lucky shot, it's missile connecting with the Huey's cockpit. The helicopter exploded, flaming pieces raining to the ground.

Caitlin let out a gasp. “Hawke!” Michael warned, “Let them handle it.”

With a visible effort, the pilot nodded. Another of the Hueys pulled away from the continuing ground battle, and made short work of the remaining Hughes. Hawke sighed with relief.

Between quick glances at the action on the ground, Michael watched the scanner. His vigilance was soon rewarded. “Hawke! Incoming. Behind us.”

“What is is?” Hawke spun Airwolf on her axis, searching the sky.

“Helicopter. Big and fast. Scanner's not recognizing it.” Michael read the words on the monitor. “Not on file.” He looked up just in time to unconsciously duck as the dark shadow blasted past above them.

By the time Hawke could turn Airwolf back, another of the Hueys was already in flames. The newcomer lined up with the third, even as shells from the fourth bounced ineffectively off it's hull. “She's armored, whatever she is,” Hawke announced, turning Airwolf to join the fight.

Michael didn't object. The Firm's helicopters were clearly out gunned, as was evidenced when the third Huey was hit. The last tried to evade, only to be hit by a missile from Horn's ship, which then dipped down to help his people in the ground battle.

“Hawke!” Caitlin had been watching the action on the ground, and pointed. “The Jeep!”

A dark colored Jeep raced away, occupant bouncing as the vehicle sped across the broken terrain. It was too far away for Michael to identify the driver, but he had no doubt who it was. “Horn.”

For a moment, Michael thought that Hawke would turn Airwolf to pursue Horn, but the rogue helicopter was inflicting heavy casualties on the ground. “Michael. give me a Sidewinder.”

“Got it.”

Hawke targeted the helicopter before him, but as the heat seeker neared it, it dropped sunbursts, luring the missile away from it's target. “Damn it!” the pilot bellowed. “Sparrow. Now!”

Michael thumbed the button for the radar guided projectile. Hawke locked onto the target, and for a moment, the shot seemed it might be successful. Suddenly, the missile veered off-course. “Radar jamming,” the agent announced, seeing he information come up on the screen before him.

“Shit!” Hawke swung Airwolf beneath the interloper, drawing the helicopter away from the Firm's ground troops. It gave chase, following them as they streaked upwards toward open sky.

Missiles fired toward them. “Heat seekers. Dropping sunbursts.” Michael pushed the buttons, and was relieved when the flares pulled the missiles away from them.

Airwolf turned more sharply than the larger helicopter could, facing back toward it. Hawke fired cannons, but the shells were unable to penetrate the ship's armor. He climbed again, trying to find safety in outmaneuvering the other helicopter before it could turn on them.

As they slipped past it, Michael studied the other aircraft. The agent had a degree in Aeronautical Engineering, and he put that background to work, trying to spot a weak point in the helicopter's design. He thought he might have found one. “Hawke, the base of the main rotor!”

The pilot didn't question him, instead turning tightly and making another run at the other chopper. He aimed the cannons at the place Michael had suggested, and was rewarded as one of the shells hit home. The helicopter began to belch smoke, wavering in the air, barely under control as the pilot tried to set it down.

Seeing that it was effectively disabled, Hawke ignored it, turning in the direction the Jeep had taken. “Where the hell is he?”

With nothing on his screens, Michael joined the others in looking ahead, searching the ground before them. “There!” Caitlin pointed toward a barely visible puff of dust rising in the distance. “That's got to be him!”

They raced toward the departing cloud of dirt, soon catching up with the Jeep. Hawke circled, dropping to almost ground level, blocking the path of the fleeing vehicle. It skidded to a stop, and they could see that it was Horn. He reached down for something that extended from the floor beside him, pulling up a long tube that he lifted over his shoulder, pointing it toward Airwolf.

“That's a Stinger,” Michael warned, identifying the shoulder-fired missile launcher.

Before Horn could bring the weapon fully to firing position, Hawke pulled the trigger on the chain guns. Shells tore into the Jeep, finding the gas tank. The Jeep exploded, fire and flames engulfing it. Hawke kept firing, making swiss cheese of the burning remains, chewing up the dirt.

Caitlin looked away. “Hawke.” Michael's voice was quiet over the intercom. “It's over.”

Taking a long breath, Hawke released the trigger. He nodded. “Yeah. It's over.” He turned, and flew back past the compound, where it appeared that the Zebra Squad had gained control, the few survivors among Horn's people bound and tied, laying on the dirt between the buildings. Hawke looked back toward Michael. “Get on the radio. See if they need our help.”

Michael changed the transmit frequency and contacted the leader of the squad. “They're all set. They've got backup coming,” the agent confirmed.

“Good.” Hawke looked over at Caitlin, who reached across to give his arm a supportive squeeze, then back at Michael. “Let's get the hell out of here.”

-*-

Hawke had been unusually quiet on the flight back from Nevada, conversation limited to a few requests for information from Michael and the engineering console. They made good time, but the sun was dropping low as Airwolf banked over the lake, water reflecting the golden sky.

While Hawke shut down the helicopter, Caitlin hopped out, announcing that she would get dinner started and heading toward the house. Michael lingered, sensing that the pilot had something on his mind.

Hawke took his time, seemingly in no hurry. Finally, he swung from the cockpit, closing the door behind him. He stood, his hand still resting on the helicopter, his back toward Michael. “Offensive,” he said, voice quiet.

The agent gave him a look. “What?”

“Offensive. As in the Tet Offensive.”

That certainly cleared things up. “Offensive?”

The pilot turned “You held up your end of the bargain, I'm holding up mine. Offensive. That's the password that will let you into Airwolf's systems. Caitlin already has it, so I'm sure you could get it from her anyhow, but...”

Michael snorted. “Unless something happened to you, Cait wouldn't give it to me, nor would I ask her for it.” Their relationship was built on mutual respect. He wasn't about to damage that.

Hawke shrugged. Whether that was a sign that he didn't believe it, or that it didn't matter, Michael wasn't entirely certain. Hawke quirked an eyebrow. “So, Mr. Deputy Director, are you going to keep the Airwolf program based out of Knightsbridge?”

“I'm not taking the job.” He hadn't quite decided until now, but as he said it, he was certain.

That caught the pilot's attention. “Oh?”

“I've had enough of the politics, the infighting. Dealing with bureaucrats and the damned committee. I want the Airwolf program back. The rest... I don't need the headaches.” Michael shook his head. “To answer your question, Airwolf stays here on the west coast.”

“You're going to need a place to live.” Hawke fought a grin. “Yours isn't looking too good at the moment.”

The agent scowled. “I've already made a few calls. Contractors will be on the job tomorrow. They're going to rebuild the house.”

There was the hint of a smile from Hawke. “That's going to take awhile. If you two would like to stay here until it's ready, you're welcome to.”

Michael nodded his appreciation. “I'll have to ask Cait, but we might just take you up on that.” He turned serious. “What about you?”

Hawke turned away from Airwolf and started slowly up the path, as the agent fell into step with him. “What about me?”

“How would you feel about rejoining the land of the living?”

The pilot looked over at Michael. “I haven't really thought about it.”

“Maybe you should.” The agent cocked his thumb toward Airwolf. “I need a pilot. Are you interested in the job?”

Hawke inclined his head toward the house. “Are you sure you don't already have one?”

“Caitlin's good, but she doesn't have the combat experience you have. She'd be the first to admit that. Airwolf goes up against something like Loki or the Fortune Teller, I want you in that seat.”

“The committee would never buy it.”

They had reached the porch, and Michael stopped, turning to lean against the railing. “Zeus has promised me free rein. I intend to take full advantage of it.”

Hawke folded his arms. “Well, if I were to take the job... I'd need a co-pilot. Do you know where I could find an experienced one?”

Michael looked in the window to where Caitlin was working at the stove. “I might.”

“Are you okay with that?”

He meant Caitlin flying into danger. “Not really. But I have to be. When Zeus told me I was being transfered to DC, before I accepted, I asked Cait if she wanted to go back to flying Airwolf. I told her Locke would undoubtedly be happy to have her as a part of his team. She said she couldn't. That it wasn't about the helicopter, it was about the people. You, Dominic.” Michael sighed. “All that has changed now. No matter how I feel about it, to be fair to her, it has to be her decision.” He shrugged. “I know what she wants.”

Hawke nodded. “I guess I've got my co-pilot.”

The agent looked up. “There's only one thing.”

“What's that?”

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “She comes with an engineer. It's a package deal. Think you can live with that?”

Hawke grinned, as he reached for the door. “Yeah, I suppose I could live with that. Come on, I'm starving. Let's go find something to eat.”

END