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Fanfiction: Resurrection - Part II

For disclaimers and author's note see Part I.


Part 4

Saint John frowned as the elevator ascended. He knew instinctively that Yahara, the Japanese business man who’d hired Santini Air for the charter that day was at the bottom of Jo’s disappearance. It was the only thing that made sense. He didn’t know how the security violation into the airspace around the nuclear plant figured in but it couldn’t be good. He was glad he’d called his brother and updated him on where he was going before he’d ridden his motorcycle to Yahara’s offices. He didn’t know why but he had a strong feeling that he would need his brother backing him on this one. The elevator doors opened and he got out. He headed for a door and checked the name. This looked like it was the right place. There was nobody at the reception desk. He sighed and made for an open office door.

‘Yes. Can I help you?’ A small bald Asian man with a neat grey moustache turned to greet him. He was dressed in a smart suit every inch a business man.

Saint John took out the business card he’d found at Santini Air. ‘I’m looking for a Mr Takeshi Yahara?’

The man indicated a seat in front of a large desk on the other side of the room which he began walking towards. ‘I am he.’

‘My name is Saint John Hawke, Mr Yahara. I’m with Santini Air.’ Saint John sat down along with Yahara. ‘One of our pilots a Miss Santini has disappeared.’

‘How distressing.’ The other man said politely.

‘She…er…violated restricted airspace.’ Saint John moved his hand closer to his gun seeing Yahara reaching for something below the desk.

‘Chimunga, yes.’ Yahara brought out a photo and but Saint John didn’t relax. ‘Please don’t hold her responsible. She was acting under my instructions.’

‘Mr Yahara…’ Saint John began frowning at the other man’s confession.

‘Do you recognise anyone in this photograph?’ Yahara cut in and placed the long print on the desk in front of him. ‘The circled one? Is he familiar?’

Saint John examined the photo and instantly recognised the man Yahara had singled out. His eyes lifted to look into Yahara’s. ‘It’s my father.’ He admitted throwing the photo back across the desk. ‘What’s going on here?’

Yahara picked the photo up again. ‘Navy Lieutenant Alan B Hawke, acting flight leader. To be more specific about time and place, the carrier Saratoga, 1945. Died coronary thrombosis five years ago. Am I correct?’

He wasn’t, Saint John thought wildly. For a start, his father had been in the army not the navy and his dying of a coronary thrombosis five years ago? Saint John almost laughed. His father had died in a boating accident when Saint John had been a teenager. He didn’t bother correcting the other man. ‘That’s enough games, Yahara. What’s going on here?’

‘I cannot tell you how sorry I am that your father is, shall we say, out of my reach. If you must know Miss Santini is my prisoner.’ He sat back looking at Saint John smugly.

Saint John pulled his gun and pointed it at Yahara. ‘Hand me that phone.’

‘Death is an effective threat only to those who fear it, Mr Hawke. If you wish to see Miss Santini again, put the gun on the desk.’ Yahara’s eyes flickered to the office doorway and Saint John glanced over. A man stood there with an automatic weapon. Saint John put the gun down; Yahara had trapped him and he would need to wait for another chance to escape.

Part 5

Hawke put the satellite phone down. ‘Damn.’

‘You still can’t find Saint John?’ Caitlin asked, adjusting her blouse back into position and lifting her son to burp him. Hawke had grown steadily more concerned as time had passed without any word from his older brother.

‘No. It’s been almost three hours since he headed for that guy’s office.’ Hawke said, coming to sit on the arm of the sofa next to where she was sat in an easy chair. ‘I just called Santini Air.’ He admitted quietly.

Her eyebrows shot up. That had been a hell of a risk to take. ‘And?’

‘The guy – I think it must be Rivers – said Saint John was unavailable but he was hiding something.’ Hawke stroked his son’s cheek gently. ‘I think I should go and find out what’s happening.’

‘You mean go to the air field?’ Caitlin checked surprised.

Hawke nodded slowly.

Her concerned blue-green eyes searched his. ‘Are you up to that?’

‘I’ll have to be.’ Hawke stated.

Caitlin sighed. ‘I can come with you. I’ll just get Nicky into some outdoor…’

‘No.’ Hawke shook his head. ‘If something is going on, you and Nicky should stay out of it.’ Her eyes flashed and he laid a finger on her lips to stop her from arguing. ‘You know I’m right.’

Caitlin subsided huffily. ‘Doesn’t mean I have to like it.’

Hawke’s lips twitched.

‘You’d better go.’ She said patting Nicky’s back gently.

‘You sure?’ Hawke asked.

She nodded. ‘Go. Just don’t get yourself killed.’

‘You’re the best wife ever.’ Hawke said.

‘Yeah. Yeah.’ She said smiling.

Hawke kissed her and gently dropped another kiss on Nicky’s head before he left. He took his bike. His stomach was churning uneasily as he headed for Van Nuys airfield. He hadn’t been back since the explosion. The journey was heartbreakingly familiar and he made good time. He pulled into the airfield’s car park. He took a deep breath and used his knowledge of the airfield’s comings and goings to avoid the main thoroughfare. He crept up on Santini Air and crouched behind a chopper, removing his sunglasses to get a better look.

An old Japanese war-plane was stood outside the hangar, an elderly man in a flight suit paced in front of it. Voices drifted over to him…

‘If that is who I think it is, he’s got some nerve.’ Hawke remembered Jason Locke’s voice from their one brief meeting. He watched as two men walked over to stand in front of Yahara. He recognised Locke; the African-American with his neatly cropped black hair and moustache. The other guy, young with wavy blonde locks and a boyish face was a stranger to him; Major Mike Rivers, Hawke surmised.

‘Takeshi Yahara?’ Rivers asked.

‘First Lieutenant Yahara Takeshi.’ So this was the guy Saint John suspected had Jo; the one who likely now had both of them, Hawke thought, shifting to get a better view. Yahara was continuing to talk asking Locke if he’d been the one to organise the fighter screen over Chimunga.

‘That’s correct, Yahara.’ Locke drew his gun. Hawke rolled his eyes; typical agent behaviour, he thought scathingly. ‘And now you’re going to answer some of my questions.’

A car pulled up and Hawke ducked down before peeking out again. Two Japanese men got out with guns.

Rivers quietly murmured Locke’s name to bring them to his attention.

‘Alright.’ Locke said. ‘Let’s go over and collect your friends.’ Hawke had to give it to Locke; he wasn’t easily intimidated.

‘It will be the other way around, I think.’ Yahara noted.

‘Cut the crap, Yahara. Move. Or I’ll drop you right here.’

‘What the hell are you doing, Locke?’ Hawke muttered. The agent was going to get himself killed or worse Saint John and Jo.

‘Ask yourself a serious question, Mr Locke.’ Yahara said responding to Locke’s threat. ‘To come here like this, either I am mad or in complete control of the situation. Do I strike you as mad?’

Hawke figured Yahara was a bit of both.

‘Where are Saint John and Jo?’ Rivers asked quietly. Hawke’s opinion of the young pilot rose; here was someone who had their priorities straight.

Yahara took something out of his pocket and showed it to Rivers and Locke. ‘Alive. That however will not be the case if a call is not made from the telephone in that car in a very few minutes.’

‘And you will die first.’ Locke said tightening his grip on his gun.

‘That is of no consequence to me. You must know that. Pull the trigger Mr Locke or give me the gun.’ Yahara demanded.

Locke handed over the weapon. Hawke sighed; he couldn’t blame the agent. The two men had been well boxed in.

‘My men will take you to your friends. I will join you shortly.’ Yahara said.

Locke and Rivers started to walk over to the car.

‘Got any bright ideas?’ Locke asked Rivers.

‘No. This guy scares the hell out of me.’ Rivers answered.

Hawke was inclined to agree with him. He scuttled back out of sight and ran for his bike. He followed the car at a safe distance and kept a look out for Yahara who was flying overhead. He stopped and watched as they turned into a driveway and pushed Locke and Rivers into the house. No doubt that was where his brother and Jo were being held too. Hawke considered his options. He needed something to balance the scales of Yahara’s control, he needed…Airwolf. He fired the engine on the bike and did a u-turn heading back down the road.

Hawke broke some speed limits on the way to the Lair but it didn’t bother him; he had no idea how long he had and he wasn’t taking any chances. He didn’t even think about the fact that this would be his first flight in Airwolf since he’d been injured. He stowed the bike outside the Lair and entered at a run. He punched in the security code, giving thanks that it had never occurred to the new Airwolf team to change it. He turned and froze.

The black and white machine stood in a shaft of natural light. Her wheels were dusty and her armour gleamed dully. Light glinted off the steel rotors and her tail. She looked just like always. Awesome. Hawke swallowed hard. Memories crowded in on him as he walked up to her, his dim awareness of the Lair fading as the memories grew stronger and more insistent.

Now if that don’t warm your heart, I don’t know what will.’ Dominic Santini’s voice echoed in his head. Hawke put a trembling hand on the nose armour and bowed his head.

Ah she missed us String.’

She’s a machine, Dom.’

Aw, don’t you listen to him baby.’

The hiss of hydraulics brought Hawke back to himself. He stroked the armour lovingly.

‘Yeah. I miss him too.’ He murmured. He shook himself free of the memories and climbed in. He started the engines and as she powered up, he put the heavy helmet on. He checked the systems were ready and took a deep breath before he clasped the controls and took her up. He frowned. Her balance was off; he was about to correct for it when it corrected itself.

Hawke’s eyes narrowed. ‘I sure hope that’s you Airwolf.’ He muttered under his breath. Caitlin had told him about the ability of the intelligence to transfer herself back into the old machine and truthfully he was pleased with the assist. The helicopter had felt sluggish without her. He checked the turbos were online and hit the button to send them shooting forward. Sheer exhilaration sang through his blood as Airwolf clicked right back into the place in his soul reserved for her. He looped her around and adjusted their course heading back for Yahara’s base.

He wished fervently that he had either Dom or Caitlin working the engineer’s console as he neared the house. He ignored the plane coming up on the monitor in front of him; they could deal with Yahara’s plan for the nuclear station after he’d made sure Saint John and Jo were fine. He frowned.

There was a bike heading away from the house.

Hawke swung around. The biker spotted him and careened to a halt, almost overturning on the road. He waved at Airwolf. Hawke lowered the helicopter and breathed a sigh of relief. It was Saint John. He landed to pick him up.

‘Head after the plane.’ Saint John instructed as he climbed in. ‘The others are safe enough.’

Hawke didn’t wait for Saint John to get comfortable but immediately took off again. His brother grabbed at the front console; he’d never been in an Airwolf take-off that fast.

Saint John stared at his little brother. ‘Maybe I ought to fly.’

Hawke grinned. ‘It’s good to see you too, Saint John.’

Saint John swallowed hard. There was something between the machine and his brother; Airwolf was responding to String’s flying in a way that she had never responded to anyone else including himself. He concentrated on their task. He hit some buttons hoping to patch into the radio connection between Yahara and the house.

‘What’s going on?’ Hawke asked. They’d catch up to the plane any moment; he planned to cut Yahara off, coming up in front of him.

‘Yahara’s going to dive kamikaze style into the nuclear base. We have to stop him. He has Jo and the others watching him on a view-screen back at his house.’

‘Are you sure they’re safe?’ Hawke asked.

‘Yeah. I took out the three guards personally.’ Saint John said. ‘I’m patching his audio link to that screen through Airwolf’s systems. Don’t worry, we’ll be able to hear them, they won’t be able to hear us.’

‘We’ve got to alert the base.’ Locke’s voice came through the audio system.

‘Even if you got free now, Mr Locke, the telephone lines have been cut. You could not reach them in time.’ Yahara replied. ‘Do not mourn the loss of your friend. There is only innocence in death and a resolve to die. Five miles to target, my friends.’

‘He was planning to kill you?’ Hawke asked.

‘I’m sure the others think he did.’ Saint John said.

Hawke raised an eyebrow but made no other comment. He rose up in front of Yahara’s plane.

‘That’s impossible.’ Jo’s voice sounded over the patched in connection.

‘They must be seeing Airwolf on the screen now.’ Saint John noted.

‘Who the hell is flying that thing?’ Rivers sounded deeply disturbed.

‘They think I’m dead.’ Saint John reminded Hawke when he shifted nervously.

‘What is this?’ Yahara was astounded at the sight of the helicopter.

‘You’d better talk.’ Hawke said.

Saint John hit the button. ‘Yahara, you’ve got ten seconds to reverse your course.’

‘Saint John.’ Jo’s voice was filled with overjoyed relief.

‘I see my men have betrayed me.’ Yahara said.

‘No, Yahara. They were true to the end.’ Saint John said sadly. It was the truth. All the guards had exhibited a strange loyalty to the older man.

‘I will have to finish this myself.’ Yahara said angrily.

Saint John cut the connection. ‘He’s lining up.’

‘Yeah.’ Hawke climbed out of firing range as guns flashed from the plane’s wings.

‘Goodbye, Mr Hawke.’ Yahara’s madness tinged his farewell.

Hawke looped back round to face the plane. ‘He really has something against you.’

‘No, against Dad.’ Saint John caught Hawke’s stare. ‘I’ll explain later. He’s got two missiles off at us. Short range and closing.’

‘Sunbursts.’ Hawke ordered. ‘Deploy either side.’

Saint John complied. ‘Are you sure? We’re…’

Hawke boosted the speed with the turbos and dived past the sunbursts. The first missile narrowly missed them and hit a sunburst; the second missile went the same way. He swung back round to face the plane.

Saint John let out a shaky breath. ‘I believe that was your last missile, Yahara.’ He radioed the elderly Japanese pilot.

‘Wrong, Hawke. I’m flying the last one. At this range even if you hit me, the explosion will finish us both.’ Yahara said furiously.

‘I wouldn’t count on it, Yahara.’ Saint John cut the connection again. ‘Can I keep that promise?’

‘Deploy weapons. Give me sequential firing on missiles.’ Hawke instructed.

‘String, at this range, we’ll be blown apart.’ Saint John commented even as he set it up.

‘Airwolf’ll stand up.’ Hawke said. ‘She always does. Visors down.’ He lowered his own visor which clicked into place.

Saint John followed his brother. Hawke fired. The missiles shot out of the cannons one after another. The first missed simply flashing past the plane but the second and third hit squarely. Airwolf shook around them at the blast. Hawke flinched at the ball of fire and smoke bellowing up in front of him, flashing back to the moment he’d lost Dom in front of the Santini Air hangar.

‘Oh God.’ Jo’s upset travelled through the air and brought Hawke back to the present. He took a deep breath and steadied Airwolf.

‘Could Airwolf survive at that range?’ They heard Locke ask as Hawke turned away from the falling debris.

Saint John grinned at his brother and reconnected to the house. ‘Hang tight, guys. I’m on my way.’ He disconnected them again.

Hawke sighed. ‘You’d better drop me off.’

‘Where?’ Saint John asked.

‘How about at that bike where I picked you up? I can use it to get home.’ Hawke suggested. ‘You can pretend my bike at the Lair is the one you took and you can bring it back to me the next time you come up.’

‘Sounds good to me.’ Saint John smiled as they landed. He got out first and jogged to the overturned motorbike to right it ready for Hawke.

Hawke ran a hand over the console. God but he loved the Lady. The new Airwolf was almost identical and would soon be flight-ready but this machine was the original. He looked about him an unbearable sadness filling his chest. This helicopter, this collection of metal, bolts and wiring, had been a constant in his life for so long. He thought he had missed her when he’d been recuperating but now…he squeezed his eyes shut as memories rushed in on him. His first ever flight with her; finding her in Libya; teaching Dom; their rescue of Cait and a thousand other missions in between and since. Hawke swiped a hand over his face until his vision was clear. He opened the aircraft’s door and stepped out. He closed it firmly and gave Airwolf’s nose a pat goodbye.

He walked over to his brother.

Saint John hugged him. ‘Thanks for the back-up.’

‘Any time.’ Hawke said patted his shoulder and swung a leg over the bike.

Saint John nodded. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

‘You’d better.’ Hawke said firing the engine. ‘I want to know what Yahara had against Dad.’

Saint John sighed. He waved as Hawke roared away before he headed back to Airwolf. He had some friends to go and rescue.

Part 6

Saint John collapsed onto the sofa and tipped the bottle back to finish the beer. His flat wasn’t the biggest of places but it was cosy enough with some of his grandfather’s art hanging on the walls. The team had spent the evening together celebrating their survival from Yahara’s attack.

‘Jo get off OK?’ Mike asked.

Saint John nodded. He’d just seen her into a taxi. Locke had left hours ago claiming he had to get back to the office. Mike didn’t have another home to go to; the young pilot was sharing Saint John’s flat, a situation that was surprisingly quite a good arrangement, Saint John thought. He and Rivers were becoming good friends beyond the team camaraderie and their flying partnership in Airwolf.

Mike tipped his beer bottle. ‘How about one more?’

‘Sounds good to me.’ Saint John threw a cushion at the curly blond-haired pilot. ‘Your turn to get them.’

Mike threw the cushion back and got to his feet. Saint John lay back against the sofa cushions and listened to the sound of the fridge opening, the clinking of the beer bottles. He took the bottle Mike handed him and waited until the pilot was sat back down with the other one before raising it in a toast.

‘Cheers.’ Saint John said.

Mike clinked the neck of his bottle against Saint John’s. ‘Cheers.’

They drank in a comfortable silence for a while.

‘You know that was some pretty fancy flying against Yahara.’ Mike commented.

Saint John took a gulp of beer. He felt a little uncomfortable taking credit for the dogfight. ‘We all have our moments.’ He said.

‘Wasn’t your usual style.’ Mike pointed out.

‘Maybe I was inspired.’ Saint John said flippantly.

‘Maybe.’ Mike took a gulp of his drink. ‘It reminded me of your brother.’

‘You saw String fly?’ Saint John was surprised into looking at him.

‘I saw some of the old mission footage of Airwolf when he flew her.’ Mike admitted.

‘Right.’ Saint John murmured.

Mike fingered his beer bottle. ‘He’s alive isn’t he?’

‘Mike…’ Saint John stilled dangerously.

The major held up a hand. ‘You’ve never actually said your brother was dead; we all just assumed it.’

Saint John ignored the urge to confide in the younger man. ‘The subject of my brother is off limits, Mike.’

‘Saint John…’

‘I mean it, Mike.’ Saint John got to his feet with the intention of going to bed.

‘I won’t tell anyone, Saint John.’ Mike rose from his seat and caught the older man’s eyes. ‘Anyone. I get that you’re protecting him. I just want to know the truth.’

They stared at each other for a long tense moment.

‘I want your word, Mike. You tell no-one what we’re about to discuss, including Jo and Jason.’ Saint John demanded.

‘You have it.’ Mike readily agreed, wondering if he was going to regret making the promise.

Saint John gestured at him to sit and sat back down himself. ‘You’re right. String is alive and he was flying against Yahara. I’d asked him to back me up and he did.’

‘Wow.’ Mike gulped down some beer. It had been an intuitive guess but to be proved right was astounding; the implications were mind-boggling. He tried to gather his thoughts. ‘He’s an incredible pilot.’

‘Yeah. He is.’ Saint John looked at the beer bottle. ‘He always was. I’m a good pilot but my brother?’ He shook his head. ‘He’s the most naturally talented pilot I know.’

Mike felt his own ego stir but he couldn’t argue. He’d been in awe of Stringfellow Hawke ever since he’d seen the mission footage and when he’d believed the pilot was dead, he had regretted that he’d never had the opportunity to meet with him or fly with him.

‘Why keep him a secret though?’ Mike asked perplexed.

‘Like you said protection.’ Saint John said succinctly. ‘When I first got back, I didn’t know who to trust; all I did know was that he was badly injured, dying and I had to make sure he was safe so he could recover and until a couple of weeks ago, we thought whoever had killed Dom was still out there and might try for String too. It made sense to foster the illusion that he was dead.’

‘But they’re not out there now?’

‘They went after String anyway and ended up dead.’ Saint John said simply. He sighed heavily. ‘Since then I’ve thought about telling you guys. I trust you but it’s really String’s decision.’

‘And he doesn’t trust us.’ Mike stated. ‘Not even Jo?’

‘He and Jo drifted apart as adults. They’d only just started to get to know each other again and he was, is, very wary about her involvement with the Company.’ Saint John shrugged. ‘I was the same when I got back. I wanted to trust Jo but I couldn’t risk String’s life on the basis of a childhood friendship.’ He gestured with the bottle. ‘String doesn’t know you at all and he doesn’t trust that Jason won’t follow the Company line. I get the impression Jason didn’t exactly make a great impression when String met him. Hell, even I’m not sure Locke wouldn’t report String’s being alive back to the Company.’

‘I understand,’ Mike said, ‘I might not like it but I understand. I’m not sure Jo will though. She’s going to be incredibly hurt.’

‘I know.’ Saint John sighed. ‘I’ve tried convincing him to tell her at least.’

‘You should talk to him about telling all of us.’ Mike said. ‘He may not know and trust us but you keeping this secret from the team is going to cause major issues and the longer you leave coming clean with everyone the more major it’s going to seem.’ There had already been an incident in the team that had shown them how fragile the trust between them was and how easily it could be eroded if they weren’t straight with each other.

‘It’s not that simple.’ Saint John argued.

‘Why not?’

Saint John sighed and wondered whether to reveal the rest of the secret; Caitlin and his nephew. ‘It’s his decision.’ He repeated. ‘But I’ll talk to him.’

‘What aren’t you telling me?’ Mike asked.

‘Something which isn’t for me to tell.’ Saint John replied evenly.

Mike nodded and raised his beer bottle in a salute.

Saint John settled back against the cushions again. It was a relief to have told someone and he trusted Mike to keep his word.

‘You don’t talk about your brother very much.’ Mike said suddenly.

‘I was pretending he was dead,’ Saint John explained, ‘I was afraid if I talked about him I’d slip up.’

‘It must be pretty weird for you both, getting to know each other after all this time.’ Mike commented.

‘That’s one way of putting it.’ Saint John said with a smile. He shrugged under Mike’s scrutiny. ‘As unintentional as it was, I put my brother through sixteen years of hell. It’s not easy getting past that for either of us.’ He admitted taking another gulp of beer.

Mike nodded. Hawke’s search for his brother had been well documented in the Airwolf file. ‘You weren’t to know.’

‘There’s no excuse, Mike.’ Saint John said. ‘I had plenty of opportunities when I was between missions to contact him but I didn’t.’

‘Why not?’ Mike asked.

‘For reasons that don’t seem all that important anymore.’ Saint John said.

‘He’s giving you a hard time?’

‘Actually, no.’ Saint John shook his head. ‘He’s been great, considering. Backed me up on the Yahara thing without any question.’ He sighed. ‘We’re working through it.’

‘If you ever want to talk about it…’

‘Thanks, Mike.’ Saint John set his empty bottle on the coffee table and stood up. ‘I’m going to turn in. Night.’

‘Night.’ Mike watched the other man head to bed worriedly; Saint John’s secret could blow the team apart.

Saint John didn’t have a chance to head up to the cabin for his discussion with his brother the next day; he and Mike received an urgent priority call from Locke and headed out to the Lair. Both Jo and Locke were bent over the computer terminals at the console.

‘What’s going on?’ Mike asked jumping over the yellow rail. Saint John rolled his eyes and took the more sedate route up the ramp.

‘We have a mission and it’s going to be a difficult one.’ Locke sighed and turned to face them. The African-American agent gestured at the video screen. ‘The Company received this yesterday evening.’ He punched a button and a recording started to play on the video-screen. It was secretly taped footage of a hospital. They watched silently as the film played out, down a corridor and into a room. The camera focused on the occupant of the bed; a man. His hair was completely gone from his head and the skin on his face had the smooth shininess of someone who had been badly burned. The man’s large eyes stared coldly back at them. Locke paused the film.

‘Who is he?’ Saint John asked a shiver running down his spine at the frozen image.

‘We think it’s Charles Henry Moffett.’ Locke said rubbing a finger over his neat black moustache.

‘Airwolf’s designer?’ Saint John checked.

‘You have to be kidding.’ Mike stated. ‘Wasn’t he killed in Libya?’

‘Presumed killed in Libya.’ Locke corrected, his dark eyes deadly serious. ‘I’ve been back over the original file. Stringfellow Hawke reported that Moffett was killed but no follow up was ever done; no body recovered.’

‘If my brother said he killed him, he killed him.’ Saint John said.

‘Saint John’s right. String wouldn’t have lied about it; he hated Moffett.’ Jo said backing him up. Her blond bob swung around her serious face.

‘What if Hawke thought he’d killed him but actually Moffett survived somehow?’ Locke asked. ‘There’s no detail on exactly how he did it or if he checked the man was dead.’

Saint John shuffled uneasily and avoided Mike’s eyes.

‘We’ve been trying to track down the original Airwolf liaison.’ Locke added.

‘Archangel?’ Mike asked. ‘Isn’t he in deep cover assignment in the Far East?’

‘It would seem that there’s some confusion about that.’ Jo remarked folding her arms. ‘We’re beginning to think it was a cover story.’

Saint John shifted uncomfortably again.

‘Our request to speak to him has gone right to the top of the Company.’ Locke noted. ‘Whatever he’s involved with has a top level security clearance.’

‘Why do we need to speak with him?’ Saint John asked. ‘I take it the mission is to go and get this guy whoever he is?’ He gestured at the man on the screen.

‘If this Moffett I don’t want us going in blind.’ Locke argued. ‘This could be an attempt by him to get his hands back on Airwolf.’ He sighed and threw his pen on the work surface. ‘With your brother and Dominic Santini no longer with us, Archangel is the only one left who could probably help us.’

Saint John sighed. ‘I need to make a call.’ He muttered and headed to Airwolf. It looked as though Mike was going to get his wish after all; he was going to have to tell them about his brother. There was no other option.

Continued in Part III.





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