FALL FROM GRACE
Part IV
By Linda Ryner
There were definite disadvantages to fieldwork, Michael thought as he, Marella and their Chadian rebel driver bounced along the desert in a battered supply truck. Not exactly first-class transportation, but he'd had
a lot worse on past missions. They'd made it this far without a hitch . . . their base of operations was just minutes away. According to reports from their contacts, a small section of the northeastern border had been cleared of
patrols. An abandoned Egyptian barracks would serve as home base for now.
Keeping Jackie out of the way hadn't been as hard as he'd thought. She had returned while they were still in Dom's office, asking Dom if it would be all right if she took a little time off to go to San Francisco for some serious
shopping, never asking what it was that he and Marella were there for. Dom used the opening to their advantage and told her no problem, he could get along without her for a few days.
The canvas parted up in the front of the truck and Marella poked her head inside. "We're coming up on the compound, Sir. I can see Airwolf."
Michael let out a breath. He wanted to get this mission accomplished and get out as soon as possible.
The truck rumbled inside the barbed wire fencing. Michael peered out the back. Against the bright desert sun, he saw String and Dominic walking toward the truck. When Michael extricated himself from the truck's interior, String gave
him a hand down and they faced each other.
"Glad to see you got here all right," Michael said, blinking against the sunlight. "I take it refueling wasn't a problem."
String smiled a little. "No problem. Freaked the pilots again, though."
Archangel chuckled. "It always seems to do that, doesn't it?" He sobered. "Those choppers I requisitioned get here yet?" he asked as Marella joined him.
"No, but they should be here soon," Hawke answered. "You know, if the Egyptian government gets wind of this stuff . . ."
"Hawke, I didn't tell you this before, but it was because of the Egyptian government working with our French contacts in Tripoli that we found out about this at all," Michael enlightened him. "Egypt isn't thrilled about Khadaffi
attempting a northern takeover if he has the means to do it. Some UAR spies found out about the second Airwolf to begin with . . . Egypt is reluctant to start anything with the borderline countries without proof to back up their spies'
claims, so we were apprised of the situation. Egypt could hold her own for awhile, but the reports coming back about a Miracle Machine were enough for them to want to back off and have someone else handle it. Then, when Preston popped into
the picture, everything kind of fell into place. If we can get the job done quickly, efficiently and with a minimum of mess, the Egyptian government will ignore the fact we're within their borders with a detachment of Chadian rebels. But if
we get caught, they won't help us out, either."
"Sounds familiar. By the way, your operative from inside Preston's camp is here."
Michael frowned. "Farouk? I wonder why?"
"Seems Preston was sufficiently confident enough that he let some of his men off for a little R&R in Tripoli before tomorrow afternoon's demo. Farouk . . . has been helping out somebody you know."
Archangel looked over at Hawke. "Who? And what for?"
"Well, a new development sort of popped up. It could be a significant problem."
Michael frowned again. "We don't have time to hit any snags now, Hawke. What's this new development?"
"There's someone you need to talk to. Come on."
They walked over to where The Lady sat. A shrouded figure paced in front of the helicopter, the classic Bedouin garb flowing elegantly about. When Michael and Hawke approached, the figure stopped pacing and stood stockstill, the desert
breezes whipping back the light-colored robes. A hand pulled the sunshades off and the cowl was pulled down. Michael knew that his jaw was dropping even as it did so.
"She was here even before Dom and I were," Hawke told him.
Michael stared at Jackie's defiant figure for a long moment and his nostrils flared. "Go home, Jackie. However it was you got here, you turn right back around and go home!"
She folded her arms and stood fast. "This is the second time you've kept the truth from me, Michael. But it really ticks me off that you get Hawke and Dom to do your dirty work." She paused, taking a breath. "You were right about one
thing. That if I found out what you were up to, I'd find a way to get here."
"How did you find out about the mission in the first place?" the Deputy Director demanded, face darkening.
"When I saw your limo parked down at Dom's office and thought about how String pushed me out the door, I got curious. I parked up on the shoulder of the road." There was no hint of repentance in her tone. "And overheard your entire conversation.
Prior knowledge of the Airwolf file and my hands-on experience working directly with you before that convinced one of your younger operatives to give me access to the files and all the new information contained in the subdirectories. Being your
goddaughter actually worked to my advantage that time."
"I don't want you here. You turn right around and head back Stateside."
"Michael," Dominic said calmly, "she found out something even you couldn't have known about. I think it makes her deserving of more consideration than you're giving her. Tell him, Jackie."
"Fifty miles northeast of Preston's installation, the Libyans are conducting military exercises. All he has to do is radio them for assistance and they're at his front door. The ground and air equipment has been outfitted with a new radar-absorbing
sheathe -- your spy planes missed them completely. Farouk couldn't get hold of you in time to tell you that before you'd left and became incommunicado. There's about a dozen MIGs, not to mention a couple of Soviet tanks and half a dozen TU-36's sitting
there. You're gonna have to take them out before you even think about hijacking the other Airwolf or you're all toast. You didn't requisition near enough firepower to take care of the problem."
Michael put a hand to his head. "Damn it. How reliable is your source?"
She dropped her defensive stance. "Pretty reliable. It came right out of Preston's mouth."
He stared at her. "Preston?"
She nodded. "I did some snooping around at his camp. Don't ask, Michael," she said, noting the look on his face. "Anyway, I overheard a conversation he was having with the camp commander. Sort of congratulating himself on a job well done. He was
talking about his contingency plan if there were any espionage attempts." She pulled at her lip. "Inside the installation, at least when I was in there, there was hardly anyone guarding the other Airwolf. He's got three or four soldiers placed around it,
but they're easily taken out. He's also got a couple of Soviet tanks in reserve. Guards in the towers and at the gates with chainguns. That's what I saw, Michael."
"We knew that and we wondered why the sparse precautions at the installation," Michael confirmed. "I guess now we know why." He was silent a moment as he looked at her. "You didn't kill him. Why?"
"I was saving it for later. Couldn't run the risk of getting caught with information like I had."
"Good call. I'm impressed."
"Impressed enough to get her on the team?" Dom queried, standing by her almost protectively. "She deserves it, Michael."
"Absolutely not," the Deputy Director replied firmly.
"Michael, your contingent of Cobras and Airwolf can probably take out Preston's installation," Jackie said reasonably. "But not with all those MIGs waiting for you in the wings. They'd be there so fast, you wouldn't have a prayer."
"I take it you've got an idea about that," Hawke prodded. "Spit it out, Jacks."
She reached down and hoisted up a dufflebag. "I have enough C-4 in this bag to do adequate damage," she informed them. "If you can send a couple of people into that military outpost where they're running exercises, you can destroy enough of their firepower
so they won't be blowing up your back. The sabotage crew grabs a TU-36 or two after they're done and meet you back here. You have Preston and the other Airwolf and everybody's happy."
"How many times have you worked with C-4?" Michael asked doubtfully.
"Remember that Bolivian cocaine operation two years ago? Covert Operations, Explosives 101."
"But you've personally only used plastic explosives once."
"I've been on one mission where I've used them. But it was done right the first time. It wasn't called The Big Bolivian Boom for nothing. My team did good."
"Yeah, and I don't believe I actually let you go on that assignment, either." Michael heaved a frustrated breath. "Well, it looks like you're part of the team whether I want you to be or not. But Marella and Farouk handle the C-4. Got it?"
Michael knew that Jackie knew better than to gloat. She inclined her head. "All I want is a piece of the action. Thank you, Michael."
"Don't thank me. We all may be signing our death warrants on this mission."
"Let's hash out an amended plan of action before those requisitioned choppers get here," Hawke said. "Mess hall, ten minutes. I'll gather the men."
Jackie took off the winding Bedouin garb, throwing the flowing robes in the back of Airwolf for the moment. Michael waited until she was finished and they walked side-by-side toward the mess hall.
"I don't suppose you could be so lucky as to have a layout of the outlying military site," Archangel finally said.
"No such luck. But Farouk did have exact coordinates."
"How did you manage to infiltrate? And in broad daylight?"
"Your other inside contact of Preston's installation had a contact in Tripoli, I got that much off your encrypted notes. After I gave all the right passwords, he got me what I needed to get in there -- uniform, Arab garb -- arranged for a transport
in Tripoli to take me in to Preston. Farouk heard of my arrival and met me in town, then spilled the info about the extra defensive line Preston had put in place. Farouk had me bandage my breasts up so I'd pass for male with my head down or with a kuffiyi around
my head." She paused. "Then he took me to Preston's camp and then brought me here. I barely made it ahead of String and Dom."
"You work fast." Michael shook his head. "I'd like to commend you, Jackie. But what you did was against specific Firm rules and in violation of your contract and I'm going to have to call you on it."
"You can reprimand me later after you save the world."
Minutes later, the men from the aerial assault squad were assembled around one of the mess tables. The commander of the Chadian contingent acted as translator for their non-English-speaking comrades.
"Preston's base," Michael pointed on one of the maps Marella had laid out.
Jackie and Farouk looked at the map a moment. Jackie's finger traced a line north and slightly east to the proper coordinates. She looked over at Farouk, who nodded in confirmation.
"That's where they're running their so-called exercises," Farouk said.
Jackie sighed. "I wish we had the Gypsymoth for this. We could take it out in two seconds flat."
"Well, we don't." Michael ignored Stringfellow's and Dom's questioning looks and scrutinized the location. "Between forty and fifty miles outlying Preston's base. Is this installation expecting any more supply trucks coming in?"
"No," Farouk replied. "But a small convoy of trucks from Tripoli will be going there after military exercises late this afternoon, carrying with them some of the local entertainment for the enlisted men there."
"Entertainment?" Dominic echoed.
"Prostitutes. Compliments of Comrade Khadaffi. Occasionally he shows his appreciation to those who support him by footing such a bill for the men's pleasure."
Michael was calculating the possibilities in brief seconds. "Would you be able to smuggle Marella into Tripoli and get her on one of those transports going to that outlying installation?"
"It could be done."
"Are you nuts?!" Dominic was outraged. "What the hell are you thinkin', Michael!"
"I'm thinking that if we don't take out that miltary site so close to Preston's installation we might never have a second chance at this," the Deputy Director replied. "Can you get the proper attire and extra uniform for Marella?"
Farouk nodded. "Not a problem. I will need her size, but I can take a uniform from one of the supply trucks. I am not expected back at Preston's testing site until tomorrow morning. I can drive one of the convoy trucks and make sure we get into the installation."
"All right then. All we need to do is coordinate the time as to when we simultaneously blow up that installation and launch the attack on Preston's testing site," Michael said. "And hope we don't hit any more snags. The minute Tripoli gets wind of our taking out that
installation, they're going to have more MIGs down our back than Carter's got pills." He looked up at his contact. "What time will the trucks be taking the women back into Tripoli?"
"Probably . . . within several hours. The commander will want the men to be sharp in the morning."
Michael nodded. "All right. We'll launch a night attack. Midnight on the nose. If things go smoothly, we should be in and out in under thirty minutes."
"And if they don't go smoothly?" Dom asked, folding his arms.
"Don't even think it, Dominic," Michael muttered darkly.
******************************
Jackie sat at the mess table with an array of ping-pong balls, a razor, clear nail polish and some bottles of powder and fusing when Hawke and Michael walked in the building. She poked a hole in the top of a ball with an ice pick and then cut it almost completely
open at the seam, letting it hinge just a little, packing it full of powder and sealing it back up with nail polish, leaving about two or three inches of fuse sticking out the top.
"Heavy duty cherry bombs, huh?" Hawke queried, sliding in beside her.
She nodded. "Yeah. Just in case Marella and Farouk need them for cover. They might need an attention-grabber so they can blow those MIGs with the plastique. Marella's rigging the timers."
"German black and potassium chlorate?" She nodded affirmatively. "Glad you're on the team, Jacks."
"So'm I." She glared at Michael. "Even if some other people aren't."
"I was concerned you'd turn this into a personal vendetta," Michael told her, looking completely unlike his usual self in an Airwolf flightsuit.
She turned her attention back toward the work but both men saw them flash. "Oh, but if you have a personal stake, that changes the rules, doesn't it?" she queried, blowing some particles of powder off one of the balls.
"Privileges of rank," the Deputy Director replied unapologetically.
Jackie started on another cherry bomb. "When are you going to stop protecting me and start treating me like the woman I am? Like the operative I am?"
Hawke, feeling suddenly uncomfortable, rose from the table, going over to the kitchen on the pretense of getting some coffee. Michael moved to stand behind his quietly enraged goddaughter.
"Whatever I've done, I've done because I care about you. This is a mission. Like a hundred other missions. We're talking international security, here. It can't be personal. It can't be."
"I want Preston dead." Her voice was flat. "I'm going to kill him, Michael. Nobody, not even you, is going to cheat me out of that."
"You're not a cold-blooded killer. Think about what you're saying."
"I know exactly what I'm saying. He killed my mother and father!" She clenched her teeth in fury and shoved her work away momentarily, trying to keep her voice level; but her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. "When he took their lives, he killed a part of me. He took
something from me -- from them -- he had no right to take!" Then, to both Hawke's and Michael's shocked surprise, a sob tore loose from her throat. Even though she bit it back, there was no use denying it.
Michael tried to understand how she'd hidden her grief so completely. He'd mistakenly thought after nearly a year she'd come to terms with Daniel and Sara's deaths, never realizing the grief had neither subsided nor resolved.
"You kept this from me," she accused in a low, hurt voice. "Why, Michael? The bastard deserves to die!"
"It's not worth what it would do to you if you killed him."
The pain in her face was beyond description. "You can't stop me."
"Look at me!" he directed harshly, suddenly pulling her up by the arm to her feet to face him. "Look what this is doing to you now. What do you think it will do to you if you do face him?"
"I'm going to kill him. With or without your permission." She sat back down, picking up the ice pick and punching a hole in the top of one of the balls. It slipped and nicked her hand. For a moment, she stared at the red streak, then brought her hand up to lick at the blood.
Her eyes met Michael's gaze. "I'll do it, Michael. Don't think for a minute I won't." Her voice had suddenly calmed and that not only made Michael uneasy, it made his heart almost stop.
"So help me, Jackie, when this mission is over, I'll keep you under detention here if I have to," he told her, deadly serious.
She stared at him stonily, attempting to discern whether or not he was bluffing.
"I will," he emphasized quietly.
There were a few beats of silence and then her eyes locked to his, pain still evident on her face. He could see the tears at the corners of her eyes. "If you detain me after the mission, I won't be hanging around California when we get back. I will drop out of sight so fast and
bury myself so deep, you and nobody else will ever find me. You wanted me to fly Airwolf with Dom on this mission. I will carry out my part of this mission flawlessly and I will be the best damn unquestioning operative you've ever had. But when you bring Preston back, I want him
after you're done with him."
Her words pierced Michael's cool veneer even further. His jaw worked. "I love you," he told her softly. "Too much to let you throw your life away on him."
Hawke rejoined them, having heard the conversation verbatim. Too much was riding on this mission to have it be screwed up. "Um . . . Michael . . . could I have a word with you?" he asked quietly. Archangel nodded reluctantly and they adjourned to the other side of the building.
"You heard it all?" Archangel queried, already knowing the answer.
"Sorry. It was kind of hard not to overhear."
"Damn it! How could I have not seen it?"
"You've always seen strength in her before. She never wants you to see anything that remotely resembles weakness."
Michael mulled that over for a few moments. "Jackie's gotten a lot more independent since working for you and Dom," Michael observed quietly.
"She's always been independent."
"She's been confiding in you a lot, hasn't she?" he asked in a deceptively calm voice.
"She talks to me. I listen."
"She relies on you."
"Yeah, once in awhile."
"And her reliance on me . . . it sort of fell by the wayside, didn't it?"
"It didn't have to. You've still got a hell of a mental hold on her, Michael. I don't think you know how much."
"Just what do you mean, a mental hold?!" Archangel exploded. Jackie looked up at his volatile tone. "In case you hadn't noticed, Jackie's been relying on you lately, not me!" She's up at your cabin constantly, even if she's just got a few free hours. I couldn't get that girl near a
fishing pole before she met you. Now the two of you are out on the lake every times he's up there, or flying the skies for hours! I hardly see her anymore because of you and you have the nerve to tell me I've got a mental hold on her!"
Jackie got up from her work and started walking toward them. "Hey, hey, hey! Turn down the testosterone!"
A startled look flitted across Hawke's usually-unreadable features. "You can't be serious. Whatever we do together, she does because she wants to." He stared at Michael a moment. "For God's sake, Michael, do you think we're sleeping together? Is that it?"
"Oh, God," Jackie whispered, stunned. All she had to do was look at Michael's face and know that he'd thought exactly that. "Jesus, Michael, we're not!"
Michael seethed. "I want you to stay away from her except when you're working together! She's my responsibility, not yours! Jackie Lee's my little girl, not . . ." He stopped abruptly. Jackie covered her face with one hand and turned away.
Hawke stared him straight in the eye and after a long moment, finally broke the silence. "Not a little girl, Michael." He paused. "That's always been your problem, hasn't it? Face it. She's a woman capable of a full range of feelings, including revenge."
"She's not a killer. She never could be. It's not in her. Not like that." Michael looked over at her as if to confirm it.
"Michael . . ." Jackie's voice trailed off. She had never seen Michael in such a state. And she couldn't confirm what he was wanting her to.
"It's in all of us to some extent," Hawke argued gently.
"No." Archangel refused to budge. "Not in her. Not in my Jackie Lee."
This time, Jackie couldn't keep quiet. "I'm not your Jackie Lee!" she emphasized, voice breaking again and nearly spilling over into another sob.
"You heard her. She's not your Jackie Lee anymore, Michael. See her for who she is, not what you idealize her as. Everybody has a killer instinct. It's there."
Michael turned on him ferociously. "Then you put it there, Hawke!"
Hawke didn't quite realize he'd struck Michael until after he was staring down at the man, sprawled on the ground. Stunned, he never even reacted until Jackie rushed by him to kneel beside Archangel.
"Michael?" She gently touched his face, then whipped around to glare at Hawke. He offered no apology and she was on her feet in a split second, angrily hitting him point blank in the chest with clenched fists so that he stepped back a pace of two. "Don't you ever hit him again, or we're
going head-to-head!" she screamed, enraged.
Stonefaced, Hawke reached down, assisting Archangel to his feet. "Can we be rational now?"
Rage now spent, Archangel nodded curtly, feeling his jaw.
Hawke walked around Michael and took Jackie by the arm. He regarded his student contemplatively. "I'd like to think of this as good hands-on experience for you, Jackie. This'll be your first mission with Airwolf, if you can promise to keep your personal feelings away from the job. Think you can
do that?"
After consideration, she finally replied, "I can promise to try."
"Go one step further," Hawke pushed. "Promise me you will."
There were a few more moments of silence. Then a sigh escaped her. "Just keep Preston out of my face when we get him. And if he has to be killed, let me do it."
"I won't promise you that," Hawke said flatly. He held her eyes for a long time.
She lowered hers first. "All right. I'll be a good little soldier."
Hawke nodded. "Good. Be ready to leave with Dominic in Airwolf in about five hours. Good luck." He turned on his heel and left the mess hall.
Michael took hold of her hand when he'd left.
"Did you mean it?" he asked in a low voice. "That you wouldn't be around if I put you in detention?"
She struggled to maintain composure. "I scared myself when I said that. Because at the time -- I did mean it."
******************************
Marella peeked into the dim interior of the mess hall of the installation. The odor of freshly brewing coffee had piqued her curiosity. She had to leave in about twenty minutes with Farouk for Tripoli and she was getting restless. Jackie was sitting at one of the empty tables, sipping from
a steaming mug while staring off into space, face pulled into a slight frown. She looked up at Marella's intrusion.
"Mind if I join you?" the operative asked, letting the door swing shut behind her.
Jackie smiled wanly. "Not a bit. Make yourself at home. I did."
Marella took one of several mugs from the table and poured herself some of the steaming, hot liquid. "You look so thoughtful."
"Just gearing up, Marella. I'd like the company."
"You're a lot more hyper about this than you're letting on, aren't you?" Marella asked, leaning forward on the opposite side of the table.
"I'm scared shitless, Marella. I hope Hawke can get by those chainguns around the other Airwolf. Why can't they take some of the men with them for a ground assault?"
"Because we were only able to plant one truck with a false bottom in the supply convoy going to Preston's testing site and Hawke and Michael barely fit in," she replied. "One of Michael's inside contacts is going to drive them in. By the way, Michael borrowed some of your plastique."
"That's fine. I've got way more than what you're gonna need anyway." She paused, troubled. "I don't know if I'm up to this. I'm beginning to have my doubts."
"You're up to it, Jackie. Your combat and covert training isn't as extensive as some, but you're hardly lacking."
"I've never been this close to a situation before," she replied. "I'm scared to death I'll do something dumb and get someone hurt -- or worse, killed."
"You know the gameplan."
"I just wish I could be more like you," Jackie told her.
Marella blinked, surprised. "Me? Why?"
"You're never afraid of anything."
Marella laughed. "Oh, man, have I got you snowed."
"You're really scared about this? An old hand like you?" Jackie asked in mild astonishment.
"Shitless."
"You never show it. If you're scared, it's the best-kept secret in the world," Jackie told her, taking a deep swallow of coffee.
"Here's another one. It took me years to master my fear," the older woman told her, placing her hand over the other woman's in a rare gesture. "Just because you're a tough broad doesn't mean you forfeit the right to be scared. The secret is to control it and then use it to your advantage."
"Any coffee left?"
Marella and Jackie looked around and found Hawke, Dom and Michael walking across the mess hall to joint them. Michael slipped in beside Jackie and loosely draped an arm about her waist.
"Talking about us?" Hawke asked goodnaturedly, sitting on the edge of the table.
"Speculating on how good you guys are in bed," Jackie replied, smiling, but her heart wasn't in it.
"Nothing better to talk about, huh?" he laughed as Marella gave him an enigmatic smile.
"Well," Dom said after the men had helped themselves to coffee, "That Farouk guy is ready to take Marella into Tripoli. Backup choppers are here. Let's check our gear and make sure we're ready. I'm going to run a systems check on The Lady."
Jackie stiffened and Michael's arm tightened about her protectively. The short meeting broke up about ten minutes later, but as they went out the door, Jackie grabbed Michael by the hand and pulled him back inside the darkened mess hall. His gaze questioned, but he waited.
"Michael . . ." She swallowed. "Promise me one thing."
He nodded. "I'll try, sweetheart."
She slipped easily into his embrace and her words were muffled in the flightsuit. "Promise me you won't take any chances. Promise me that if it's necessary, you'll kill the bastard and be done with it."
Michael pulled back a little and brushed her cheek with gentle fingers. "If you think for one minute I'd take any stupid chances with you waiting for me, think again." He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the mouth, then looked down into her face. He touched her hair, winding his fingers
through it. "Oh, hell." He kissed her again, more deeply, pulling her tightly to him, tongue snaking between her teeth, the caress almost fierce. After a long moment, he let her go. "You going to be all right?" he questioned softly.
She nodded, breathless. "Yeah. I'll be fine." She touched a hand to his face. "I love you, Michael."
He pulled her into a quick hug, eyes squeezed shut. "I love you, too."
Then he was out of the building, not daring to look back. Stringfellow Hawke met him on the other side.
"She okay?" the pilot asked, concerned.
"She's fine," Archangel answered, voice a little husky. "You know me. I've worried about her all my life. Old habits die hard."
"I know."
Michael looked at Stringfellow, his face unreadable for a moment, then he spoke. "Hawke, I want to tell you something. And I want you to take it to heart." He stopped walking and so did the pilot. "Don't go out of your way to bring that prototype in." He paused. "I took some of Jackie's plastique.
Once you've set the timer, it goes off fifteen minutes later." He swallowed hard, unable to believe he was saying this. "You might want to think about taking it with you."
Stringfellow stared at him for a moment. "Thanks, Michael."
"Don't thank me yet. We could be walking right into death's yawning jaws tonight."
"We'll be all right."
//I hope you're right, my friend,// Michael thought as they turned toward the choppers. //I do hope you're right.//
******************************
Marella rounded the corner of one of the buildings. She'd changed into the military uniform to attract less attention to herself and donned the kuffiyi about her head to hide her long hair and feminine facial features. The MIGs sat in precise military formation. The guards were sparse around
the camp with the prostitutes present; Farouk came up behind her, satchels loaded with the C-4 and homemade cherry bombs in hand.
"It's 11:42," he told her. "I've disabled the radio. I'll try to keep you in the clear and act as a distraction while you plant the explosives. We must work swiftly. It is near time for the trucks to come back and take the women away."
"Can you fly a TU-36?" Marella asked him.
The man nodded. "I was trained on them."
"Good, because you're going to need to snag one of them on our way out," Marella told him. She reached inside one of the satchels and handed him a slimline stungun. "We can't afford a lot of noise. Think you can take these guards out with this while we set the explosives?"
Farouk nodded. He brought out a gun with a silencer. "I also have this."
"Okay," Marella said, nodding. "Good luck to us. And no matter what happens, you get out of here. Don't worry about me. Michael's invested too much in you to have you get killed."
"And you. I owe him much. I owe my country more. I know my orders." He moved past the operative, walking towards the guards.
Marella watched as he approached the first. They exchanged some words in Arabic which she couldn't even hear clearly. Suddenly, the first guard jerked spastically and fell to the ground. Farouk knelt by him, shouting for the other guards to come. He stunned another one of them when close enough and used
his gun to send a silent bullet through the brains of the other two.
Looking around quickly, Marella broke cover and immediately grabbed the first body, quickly helping her comrade to pull them behind some trash containers near a building. Farouk watched for anyone wandering too close after they finished dispensing with the bodies. He nodded and Marella grabbed the satchel and
wandered into the sea of MIGs."
******************************
The supply truck had just been unloaded and sat alone and unguarded inside a shelter with several other trucks. From inside came a creaking, moaning sound, not unlike a door opening on squeaky hinges, and two figures emerged.
Hawke peered around the corner of the building, his Mac-10 ready. Then, he slipped back inside. "Looks like it's clear. The records building is up front, last one on the left. No guards outside, but be careful, Michael."
"I'll manage," Michael said quietly.
"Preston's quarters are near the office," Hawke said. "But he could be anywhere." He scooped up a little bag of the plastique Michael had given him.
"I'll find him." Michael raised his gun, then placed his free hand on String's arm. "I don't need to tell you to be careful."
"Nope, you don't." Hawke slapped him on the shoulder and melted away in the darkness.
Michael was alone. He remained still a moment, watching to make sure Hawke would be all right; then, he disappeared into the shadows with the remaining bag of C-4 and began his search for his friends' murderer.
******************************
Dom and Jackie sat a few miles north of Preston's military testing site, camouflage netting securely in place. Jackie had been pacing nervously since they got there and Dom would have said something if he hadn't been so nervous
himself. The Cobras Michael had requisitioned sat behind them, also with netting around them. Some of the pilots were getting edgy about being out in the open and Dom couldn't blame them, even if they were under cover of darkness. Hawke and
Michael were late by forty-five minutes. This was not a good thing.
"Dom, what're we going to do?" Jackie asked.
Dom knew that she'd bitten her tongue until this minute. He looked off into the direction of Preston's site. "Could just be taking longer than expected."
"We would have heard an explosion if they'd managed to get that C-4 planted. It couldn't be taking this long."
Dom chewed his lip. His stomach was doing flip-flops as he thought of the possibilities. "Could be nothin' . . ."
Jackie began pacing again, more anxious.
"On the other hand . . ." He let the statement fade.
He made a decision. "Tell the pilots to get ready to rock," the older man told her, already taking off the cammo cover from The Lady. "We're goin' in with guns blazin'." He looked up at her. "You ready for this, Jackie?"
Jackie helped him pull the cover off. "I'm ready, Dom." She handed it to him. "Let's go kick Preston's ass."
******************************
Dom's gut feelings were rarely wrong.
Michael searched the office building, checking drawers that were open and jimmying the ones that weren't, momentarily abandoning his search for Preston in favor of looking for the software with the Airwolf schematics. He wasn't prepared for
the abrupt opening of the door. Automatically, he assessed the threat and dispatched it with deadly precision, his gun with silencer speaking sudden death to the two guards in the doorway. Spots of red flowered from their foreheads and they dropped
like sacks of leaden grain.
A sudden, radiating pain spread through Michael's shoulder, neck and arm. Before his gun slipped, a hand reached out to snatch it away. Michael whirled, staring into steely, brown eyes. Graham Preston handed the confiscated weapon to one of
the four men behind him and grabbed the small bag at his side.
For a moment, there was complete surprise on Preston's face. Then, slowly, a smile began to spread across his lips. "Michael Coldsmith-Briggs. I knew your people would try something, but I never expected you'd come along -- quite a bonus,
capturing the biggest fox of them all." His smile grew more broad. "What happened, Archangel? I thought you were always prepared for everything. You must be losing your touch." He unzipped the pouch and looked inside. "Hm. All sorts of nice
little goodies in here." He laughed suddenly, holding up a ping-pong ball. "Homemade cherry bombs! It's been a long time since I've seen one of those!"
Michael held his tongue, refusing to give Preston any satisfaction. His fury checked, he chose to remain neutral even as more of Preston's men surrounded him.
"Hmph. Not too talkative, are you?" Preston mused. "We'll have to find some means to encourage you to be a bit more gregarious. You always were the life of the party," he said sourly, then addressed the guard escort. "You can take him
to Building Six for now. As soon as the other members of his team are rounded up, we'll have a little get-together." His dark eyes glittered in the darkness.
A sound drew Michael's attention to his left where he saw Hawke being ushered toward him by yet another guard escort of four.
"You all right?" Archangel asked, concerned.
Hawke nodded. "Yeah. I got through the guards and the chainguns, but he had three men posted inside the other Airwolf and more hidden in dugouts we didn't catch. He was better prepared than we thought."
"Are there any more?" demanded Preston, the night wind whipping his long brown hair.
"No, sir," one of the guards replied in broken English. "We are searching the entire compound thoroughly. We think there are only these two."
"Keep looking," Preston ordered. He turned his attention toward Archangel again. "I have to tell you, you did well to get this far." He motioned with his hand. "Watch them closely." He smiled. "And double the guards and artillery at the gate.
They may have friends foolish enough to attempt a rescue and I want to be ready. Contact our friends north of us and have them send out some patrols for this area."
"Sir," one of the men said, "we've already tried contact. We are unable to raise anyone."
Preston frowned as they walked out of the office building and into the night air. "No one?"
The man shook his head. "No one, sir."
Preston chewed on his lip, casting a sideways look at his captives. "Contact Tripoli. Have a dozen or so MIGs on standby. Just as a precaution."
"At once, sir."
But before Preston's orders could be carried out, a whine met his ears and Airwolf swooped through the back door of the installation, flanked by Cobras.
******************************
"Damn," Dom swore. "I was afraid of something like this. We can't strafe, not with them all together like that." He eyeballed the office building on the other side. "Jackie, target the office."
Obediently, she turned Airwolf about and placed the building in their sights. The gunfire railed about them.
"Activating shrikes," he said. "Whenever you're ready."
She stared downward from the cockpit, watching the unbelieving expression on Preston's face. "Firing."
The vibration of the missile leaving its holder made Airwolf shudder; turning about, they missed the flying shrapnel as the building exploded into a fireball. With the floodlights on, they could see Hawke and Michael hustled by their captors across the compound.
"Try nudging them out into the open a little . . ." Dom said.
But Jackie was already doing so. Airwolf was like a sheepdog, nosing at Preston, the guards, Michael and Hawke. Her hands gripped the controls until she knew they were white inside the gloves. She tried to whip up the sand to make it uncomfortable, to make the guards loosen their hold, to take away any
type of edge the opposition might have had. To no avail.
"Dom . . ." Her voice sounded strange. "Dom, Hawke and Michael can't get away from them."
"Keep nosin' 'em," Dom directed. "Get right in their faces if you have to."
"If I was any closer I'd be flying up their noses. There's a patrol unit coming in from the North," she told him, listening to the radio feedback. "ETA less than three minutes. And more behind them."
She heard a hiss and glanced over to see the side door of Airwolf come open. Dom was standing near it, a scope rifle at his shoulder.
"Looks like we're gonna have to do this the hard way," he said, grimacing. "Close as you can, Jackie. I'd want to be able to pull them right in when the opportunity presents itself."
She looked around, seeing that a couple of the Cobras had landed, spilling its human contents into the compound. Some made a rush for the small group she was trying to herd into the open. Many fell under the gunfire. There were too many Libyans still manning the compound, Jackie thought. This was absolute
suicide.
"Steady her!" Dom called. "If I can nail one of the guards, it might be enough of a distraction for String and Michael to get away! I've got to get a clean shot!"
She could see Michael's and Hawke's faces, oh, so close, in the glare of the lights and her heart was in her throat. A swell of nausea billowed in her stomach and she fought it. There was a rash of gunfire all around and she heard Dom curse again, much louder this time. She glanced over and he was grabbing
his arm. A patch of red spread over his shoulder.
"Dominic!" Jackie immediately depressed the hover button and rushed to his side, doing a quick survey of the damage before getting him back to his engineer's chair.
"I'm okay," the older man assured her. "I'm not hit that bad. Just a graze. Man the controls."
Immediately, she slammed the side door shut and slid back into the pilot's seat. Then, a sound came from the rear. It was one sound neither of them would ever mistake.
"We got company comin' in!" Dom called out.
"I know!"
She strapped himself in and lifted Airwolf up, abandoning any attempt at rescue for the moment. One of the Cobras that had flown in with them burst into a fireball as they pulled up. She knew the Chadian pilot had probably put himself between her and an oncoming missile on purpose and felt a momentary pang of
panic and regret at his death.
"Shit!" she whispered, heart racing, blood pounding in her ears.
"Bogeys at ten and two o'clock," Dom called out.
"Give me turbos on my order, Dom," she directed.
"They've both fired," Dom continued. "Shrike missiles. Closing fast."
She waited. Just when Dom thought they would meet their Maker, she shouted "Turbos!" and he complied. They were soaring upward in a fraction of a second, the missiles detonating against each other at a precise angle, showering the compound below with sparks and residue. Jackie pulled around, tailing the reinforcements
sent in.
"I need a Redeye on line," she told Dom tightly.
"Redeye on line."
"Firing."
An explosion rent the air as one of the MIGs exploded. She swooped around.
"Another Redeye, Dom."
"On line."
"Firing."
The second MIG went down in flames.
"I'm going to make a pass at the other building that looks like it could be the office, just to cover all bases, Dom. Pull a Copperhead on line."
"You got it. Let's go."
Airwolf whined down into the viper pit again.
"Targeting the building, Dom." She locked on it. "Firing."
The copperhead left its pod and Airwolf shuddered at its exit. They flew out of the flame when the building exploded into shattered wood and metal.
"How're we doing?" Jackie asked, circling back.
"So far so good. But we got lots more company coming in and not enough Cobras to go around."
"How many?"
"Twelve on the scope."
"Damn. I can't take on twelve MIGs, Dom, even with the firepower we have and the other choppers!"
"Then we better beat it out of here and regroup," Dom said grimly. "We got no choice. And we better do it now."
They called back the remaining Cobras amidst the shell fire and fled the testing site.
******************************
Hawke breathed a sigh of relief at their departure. He doubted even Airwolf could stand up to that kind of firepower. He'd seen Dom get clipped but it couldn't have been that bad or they wouldn't have been able to wreak the kind of damage they had. Preston had also been studying the Mach I as they had flown
out of sight, less than pleased about the damage visited upon his testing site. He turned to his captives.
"So. You brought the original Airwolf with you," he mused. "Damn good flying, Archangel, who's the pilot? I just bet a little friendly persuasion would bring him around to our side."
"She'll never work for you," Michael snarled.
"She? One of your little ladies in white?" Michael remained silent. Preston shrugged. "Interesting. If they attempt a rescue, I'm afraid we'll nail them. The damage we've suffered is really quite minimal. We've got more reinforcements coming in. Not even your Miracle Machine can handle them all. And they did turn
tail and run when the first batch of reinforcements came. Comes from inexperience, I suppose. I doubt anyone so green will make a second try." He watched as his men doused the fires around them.
"Arrogant son-of-a-bitch," Hawke murmured under his breath. "Does he really believe that if he says it, it's so?" He consoled himself with the fact that Jackie had the benefit of Dom's experience, a fact Preston knew nothing about.
After a gesture by Preston, String and Michael were hauled into another darkened building. The first room was very much like an office. A door led to a second room toward the back and it was there they were shoved unceremoniously inside.
"Now," Preston purred with a charming smile that revealed very menacing teeth. The two men had their flightsuits stripped to the waist and their tees removed. Thick ropes were thrown over the ceiling rafters. "Let's have a little chat, shall we?"
******************************
Jackie entered the makeshift medical facility within the compound, stopping just inside the door to watch as a rebel soldier helped Dom tape a bandage to his upper arm. Neither of them had wanted to clear out when it had become necessary. But it would have been stupid to try and take on so many MIGs. Hawke might
have managed to take out six or even eight of them. Jackie knew, given the circumstances, she probably wouldn't be able to blast more than five to kingdom come. She was good and she was fast, but her combat experience wasn't 'Nam. And she hadn't been flying dangerous missions in quite awhile, not to mention the fact this was her
very first combat mission in Airwolf.
Marella had come into their base of operations with Farouk, both flying TU-36s. As soon as she disembarked, Marella jogged to where Jackie stood at the door of the building and walked up to where Dom sat on a low table. Perspiration plastered his hair to his head and grimy streaks of sweat ran down his neck. He thanked the Chadian
rebel for his help.
"How're you doin'?" she asked Dom, placing her hands on the back of his neck and rubbing the tension out.
He made a sound of contentment. "Okay. It's a graze. Guess that's what I get for trying to play hero singlehandedly." He sighed. "Lord, that feels good." He paused, then looked up at the dark woman. "Mission accomplished?"
She nodded. "That military installation is rubble. Michael and String?" she asked, voice low as Farouk joined them.
"Preston's got them. He had more men at the compound than any of us thought. We had to abort the mission. There were too many MIGs comin' in."
"It was the only thing you could do," Marella said quietly, although her voice sounded choked. "We weren't anticipating this much firepower as an impediment to the mission."
"Dom . . ." Jackie's voice trailed. "We can't leave them there."
"Yeah. I know that. We gotta go back. Wouldn't have it any other way."
"There's too many MIGs out there. Even with the remaining Cobras, I don't see how we could dispatch them all," Marella said doubtfully.
"It's a chance we'll have to take," Dom told her, grimacing. "We don't have much time. This could be a suicide run. But we're gonna go right down their throats -- twelve MIGs and all."
"Don't forget, I trained on those helicopters," Farouk reminded them indicating the TUs outside. "You've got another pilot."
Jackie lifted her chin. "What the hell, it'll be like playing Space Invaders. At the worst, we'll go out with a big bang."
"You're a gutsy lady," Farouk told her, smiling.
"Gutsy, anyway." She ran a hand through her hair. "The armaments on Airwolf have been replaced."
"Good. All we have to do is run a systems check and go," Dom siad. "They won't expect us coming back again so fast." Dom rose from the table and made a 'ladies first' gesture as they exited.
******************************
Hawke jerked into consciousness, pain radiating throughout his body. Sweat poured down his skin in waterfall-like rivulets -- this discomfort was nothing compared to the dull pain in his side where a well-placed rifle butt had made contact with his kidney. They'd been suspended for about an hour now, from thick ropes tied
to the ceiling rafters.
Michael was worse off, barely conscious from the first brutal torture session. His back and chest were criss-crossed with welts. It seemed Preston wanted to concentrate his twisted cruelty on Michael from the very beginning. So far, none of the injuries had been life-threatening -- their captor just wanted to inflict that which would
amass the most pain. He wanted them broken, not dead. At least not yet.
"Michael . . ." Hawke's voice sounded harsh, even to his own ears.
Michael stirred, barely able to lift his head from his chest. "Hawke?"
"Here, Michael."
Archangel focused on him, squinting. "Shit. I feel awful."
A mirthless smile flitted across Hawke's mouth. "You don't look so hot, either."
"It's getting hard to breathe." Michael paused. "Think Dom and Jackie will come back for us?"
Hawke grimaced against his pain. "Well, I know Dom and you know Jackie. Does that answer your question?"
"It's a damn kamikaze stunt if they do," Archangel said, wincing.
"Yeah."
"And they'll do it anyway."
"Uh-huh."
"Damn fools."
Hawke looked over at his friend. "You gonna make it?"
Michael chuckled softly. "Hell. This is a day in the amusement park compared to what they did to me in Korea when I was running covert missions." He paused a moment. "Daniel and I spent some time in a POW camp before we were rescued."
"Jackie's dad?"
"Yeah. Wallowing in hell together forges bonds stronger than friendship. I know how much I admired Daniel when he stood up to the camp commander. He was in the Cooler a lot. Hot as hell in the day. Cold at night. When they threw you in, you went without your clothes. Sometimes they'd give you water. Sometimes they wouldn't. Days
at a time, sometimes. It just depended on the whim of the commander."
String suddenly froze mid-thought. It was not lost upon the Deputy Director.
"What is it, Hawke?" Michael asked.
"A feeling." He looked over at his friend. "Dom and Jackie are coming, Michael. And they're out for blood."
The door swung open, revealing Graham Preston and two aides. He sneered at the two hapless prisoners for a moment, immensely pleased at their discomfort, then held out his hand to one of the men at his side. A riding crop was slapped into it.
"You've had ample time to reflect on past sins, gentlemen," Preston told them in a very amicable voice. "Now, the penance. For once, Archangel," he addressed the Deputy Director, "I hold the upper hand. I have the power. I could choose to have you come out of this fairly intact. Or I can make it positively unbearable."
"Enjoy the god-like feeling while you can," Michael told him, smiling coldly. "You were never a real man. No real man tortures and murders women. Or men who are defenseless. You're just another butcher."
"I came up with the Airwolf schematics!" Preston said. "I came up with the feasibility of all the armaments! Moffett was the expert on record, but where do you suppose he got most of his ideas? From me! From Daniel and Sara!"
"Don't you even speak their names!" Michael was livid. "You tortured and murdered them! People you worked alongside for years! People you went to dinner parties with, who had you over for family gatherings, for holidays! People you accepted awards with!"
"They wouldn't cooperate," Preston replied reasonably with a shrug. "I couldn't just let them go. They knew too much."
"You could have at least made their murders clean!" Hawke hissed angrily. "But you had to play your sick games, didn't you? Who was your teacher? Moffett?"
"Actually, I was the one who taught him." Preston smiled.
"I hear your tastes run to prepubescent boys and girls," Michael spat venomously. "Of course. What better place to play out your fantasies than here?"
"Like the ones you have about your goddaughter, Michael?"
Michael roared, struggling against the ropes that held his wrists.
Preston laughed delightedly. "Ooo, good, I hit a nerve! Do you think nobody ever noticed? Even Daniel did. But you have that unfortunate sense of honor, he and Sara trusted you completely. I, on the other hand, was never so honorable. They trusted me, too." Michael stared at him, uncompehendingly. Preston's smile grew wider. "You
mean -- Jackie never told you?"
"Shut up." Hawke's tone was low.
"Oh, Michael. I thought Jackie told you everything." He slapped the whip in his open palm. "Hm. Apparently not. We had an absolutely marvelous night together -- I believe she was seventeen." His teeth glittered. "I was her first."
"Jackie never would have slept with you!" Michael shouted hoarsely.
"She was damn good for a virgin. Couldn't get enough of me. She begged me for more. We got in quite late that evening." He smiled again. "If you ever make love to her, Michael, you'll know I had her first. Everything she does to you, everything she whispers to you, the way she kisses you -- she learned it all from me. It felt a little
incestuous. But that was easily gotten over. She's always been a little slut at heart."
"You sick son-of-a-bitch. I'll kill you myself," Michael hissed murderously.
"Oh, I don't think so. You see, you're suspended from up there, and I'm down here." He rolled his shoulders, relishing his moment of triumph. "It's always been stiff upper lip with you, hasn't it Michael?" Preston continued. "I don't suppose you'd grovel even for your friend, here." He indicated Hawke, then shrugged. "I guess it doesn't matter.
It's fun to try and make you do it, anyway." He smiled. "So," he said conversationally, "let's see how long it takes before you break."
*******************************
"You're going to have the hardest part, Jackie," Dom told her as they skimmed over the dunes in stealth mode. They had Marella and six Chadian rebels crammed into Airwolf for the short journey to the desert testing site. "You're gonna have to wait in Airwolf until you know we got Hawke and Michael clear. When we get strapped in, you
start blasting everything you see, you got it? The Cobras will draw the bigger guns away from you as much as they can, but you'll have to be on the lookout, watch out for your backside. You up to it?"
"I'll have to be, won't I? Unless you want to switch places with me and let me go on the search and rescue."
"You're better off in here, and a helluva lot more safe. Archangel would be down my neck if I switched places with you. So by benefit of age, Marella and I are pulling rank."
"Chauvinist!"
"You betcha. You be ready."
"I'll be ready. You guys just be damn careful."
Dom was betting that Preston wouldn't expect them to mount another attack and rescue attempt so soon. He hoped his instincts were right. He'd seen tin-plated little dynamos like Preston before. They were arrogant to the extreme and damn sure of themselves, usually the cause of their own downfall. But then he, Michael and String had underestimated the
security. It was best not to be cocky about the outcome. Dom had absolutely no intention of losing. They were going to get them out -- alive -- or die trying.
"Eight miles and closing!" came Dom's voice from the back. "Seven . . . six . . . five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . and over the wall!"
Machine-gun fire exploded from the lookouts as Airwolf rose from behind a sand dune, flanked by four Cobras, two coming in the front door and three each from the other directions. Jackie activated the chain guns, mowing down the towers with a barrage of fire. They swept inside the compound amidst the chaos below, knowing that they were running out of time
before the reinforcements came in.
"Big detachment of security at eleven o'clock!" Jackie said.
"Odds are that's where they're being held," Dom said. "Set down as close as you can."
She turned Airwolf obediently, firing at anyone who got in the way. Then, she turned ninety degrees and Dom, Marella and the rebels disembarked swiftly. The gunfire magnified. She saw another one of the Cobras explode. Now that Dom and the rebels were inside the building, she turned another ninety degrees and nosed forward a little, letting fly with the
chainguns again. She saw a Soviet tank coming from around the corner and reacted immediately, pulling a hellfire on line. The twenty-pound warhead stopped the armored unit in its tracks.
"Damn!" Now she understood what Hawke had meant about playing God. She wet her dry lips, aware of her aloneness. She glanced back over at the building, keeping herself and The Lady between it and anyone who might try to get past her. She flashed back to Grenada briefly. That cold December day when she had taken up a fighter without thinking of anything
but defense. That was what she was doing now. But it was ten times harder.
Because it was really personal.
"C'mon, Dom," she whispered. "Let's get the hell out of this desert hole."
******************************
The rescue team rushed the building with Dom in the lead, carrying an Uzi. He hadn't really stopped to think that much about the foolhardiness of the rescue. He just knew it had to be done -- anything was better than nothing. Despite the odds, Dom had intended to win. Maybe that was how he and Steven Hawke had always managed to fly another
day in the Second World War. They never really thought past being successful in their endeavors, no matter how dangerous.
The team swarmed inside the second room dispatching the small detachment with manpower alone, not firing a single shot.
"Get a move on!" Dom barked. "We don't have a lot of time!"
Preston, held between two rebels, looked a bit panicked without his usual appendages of security. Once released from his bonds, Hawke zipped up his tattered flightsuit, picking up a stray pistol and grabbing and grabbing Preston by the arm. He held the barrel against his cheek. "I should save us all some taxpayer dollars and do you right now," the pilot said
silkily in his ear. "But there's someone else who wants to get their licks in -- and I may just let them do it."
"Let's go," Dom said, as he and Marella supported Michael between them. "Our two ladies are waiting outside for us."
"Alone?" Michael asked, eyebrows rising.
"She's fine!" Dom said impatiently. "C'mon!"
They broke out into the dark morning and Airwolf made a graceful turn, practically offering curb service. Hawke and Preston got in first, then Dom, Michael and Marella. Jackie glanced back once, relief flooding her when she saw Hawke and Michael; fury rising when she saw Preston's hard-planed face. She clenched the controls and her teeth.
"Strap in," she said evenly. "Dom -- I want carte blanche."
"Hey . . ." Hawke began with a hint of warning.
"This is mine, Hawke. Don't you dare take it away from me."
She turned Airwolf about, swallowing hard, moving toward the helipad where the duplicate Airwolf sat, now sparsely guarded by men who could not hope to fly her. She could let Hawke out to fly the duplicate in -- pick off the remaining resistance and open the hatch door. Marella -- or even Michael in his less than pristine condition -- could take over watching
Preston.
"Your call, Michael," she said quietly. "What do you want me to do? Make it fast, because I won't be in control in about another minute."
Michael looked up at Hawke and their gazes locked. Jackie glanced back as she lazily circled the stationary hi-tech chopper. The glance they exchanged was all she needed to see. She decided to save Michael from having to verbalize an order that could get the flames fanned under him.
She moved away from the target, swinging around to face the duplicate Mach I. The gunfire reverberated in her head, pinging off Airwolf's outer hull. The sound of rotors sliced through the night air as the remaining Cobras were picking up their comrades and retreating. The whine of Airwolf filled Jackie's senses. Eyes half-closed, she felt the undisputed moment that
every good pilot felt at one time or another -- she was one with the machine.
"Make him watch, Hawke." Her voice was filled with venom.
Hawke observed as the two machines mirrored each other. He glanced at Preston who's face was filled with unbelief. He was only now just realizing that his life's work was about to be obliterated.
"You can't," he said, lunging forward toward her. "You can't! She's my creation!"
Hawke hauled him back in his seat but pressed his face against the window.
"Blow her a kiss," Jackie hissed at him balefully. "I'm allowing you more than you ever did for me when you murdered my parents!"
Preston's jaw dropped as he suddenly realized the identity of the face behind the helmet. "Jackie?"
Twin explosions ripped the atmosphere as she let loose with both bullpups in succession. Two copperheads followed for good measure. Then, Airwolf swept out of the black smoke and orange flame, leaving the threat behind as a smoldering crater and Preston's voice was raised in a high-pitched cry that blended with the whine of The Lady.
******************************
Dom looked back at Jackie as they disembarked Airwolf. She was still sitting in the pilots' seat, staring ahead, even after she removed the helmet. Hawke made sure Michael was well in hand, satisfied that between Dom, Marella and some of the other men, they would get him to the medical complex and get him cleaned and patched up.
Hawke passed Preston off to a detachment of rebels, who hustled him off to a detention cell. Michael stopped halfway and looked back.
"Jackie?" he called.
Dom waved them on. "We'll be there in a minute!" Then, the older man turned to String. "I think you better talk to her. I don't know if she's shell-shocked or what. I'll be in there with Michael." He started toward the building.
Hawke approached the open door of Airwolf, looking inside. Jackie sat with her hands in her lap, clenched into fists, shaking, unclenching, shaking some more, then clenching again.
"You did good. Time to leave the combat zone, Jacks," he told her in an even voice.
He heard her deep breath. He knew how it felt, to come down after a major operation like this. After a moment, she moved, climbing out of Airwolf, letting Hawke close the hatch. She folded her arms across her chest and walked ahead a few paces, then stopped. String caught up.
"It's over," he tried to impress upon her. "It's done. Let it go."
"I want to kill him, String."
"I know."
"I've killed before. Sometimes one-on-one, sometimes not. I've always come away with some measure of guilt for a few seconds, at least. Maybe Mick was right. Maybe women aren't cut out for this kind of work."
"That's bullshit and you know it." He turned her around. "You express it more outwardly, that's all. All of us are brought up with the idea that killing is wrong. I was brought up with those values. So was Dom. So was Michael. I imagine Marella was, too. I'd worry about you if you didn't have feelings about it. Just because you're a
woman doesn't mean you have the corner on emotion or guilt. How do you think I feel every time it's necessary for me to kill somebody? Even if it's justifiable?"
"Does it ever get any easier? The killing, I mean?"
"You better hope not. Start worrying if it does."
"Even for justifiable revenge?"
"Listen, Jacks. Killing for revenge . . . even if it seems right at the time . . . well, there's a high price to pay. Some people can't live with it."
"Sometimes I think I'd be willing to pay the price, String. Sometimes I think it would be worth it."
"Be careful," he warned. "Listen to what you just said. You better analyze it before you start believing it." He paused, reaching out to gently touch a strand of her hair. "These past couple of days have been a lot harder on you than you've let on, haven't they?"
"I could've killed Preston the minute you brought him into Airwolf," Jackie told him in a soft voice. "I had my pistol at my hip. I could have done it. I wanted to do it."
"But you didn't. That took self-control and guts," he reminded her.
"I came so close." She sighed and hung her head. "God, I sound so evil."
"What you're feeling is normal and it's human. It's not in you to be cold. That would make you a Moffett or Preston clone, and I know you're not that."
"How can you be sure?" she asked in a hushed tone.
"Because you cared enough to risk your life bigtime to come after us."
"It was Dom's idea. He risked his life more than I did. I just followed orders."
"All the more reason I'm sure about you. You put your implicit trust in Dom, and Dominic Santini is the salt of the earth."
She breathed in again. "I wish I'd had a big brother like you growing up."
"Well, I came in a little late for that, but you're not half-bad as a sis, Jacks."
For the first time in a few days, she smiled. "Well, y'know. Somebody's got to screen your dates besides Dom."
Hawke laughed and pulled her into a headlock as they walked toward the makeshift medical ward. Despite his arm wound, Dom was clucking around Michael like a mother hen, ignoring his mutinous face.
"Clean towels or sheets, whichever, and lots of water. Got any peroxide or methyl alcohol?" One of the guards nodded in affirmation. "Good. Bandages, dressings -- fresh changes of clothes, too. Oh, and hey," the older man addressed one of the rebels. "I don't suppose you'd have any whiskey or bourbon or something?"
"I can check the stores, but I doubt it," one of the men replied. "We're all Muslims, it's against our religion."
Jackie looked over at Dom, smiling and shaking her head. "You've been watching too many Gunsmoke reruns, Dom. Michael doesn't need the booze. None of his wounds are that bad, are they?" She moved over to where Michael sat, noticing him favoring his game leg. She tore the seam neatly up the side of the leg so the material split.
Dom returned her look. "Who said it was for him?" Michael managed a chuckle as Dom exchanged a half-smile with Hawke. "You okay?" he asked the pilot. "You didn't come out unscathed."
"Nothing a shower and some antiseptic can't fix," Hawke replied.
"Let me take a look at you anyway," Marella directed, unzipping the flightsuit he wore and peeling it down to his waist.
Michael was shedding his flightsuit with Jackie's solicitous help. "That's enough," he told her. "Dom can take care of me."
"Dom's wounded," Jackie reminded him. "Now get out of that flightsuit."
"Hawke . . ." Michael began, looking at the pilot in askance.
"No way. I'm not getting into this," Hawke declined, grinning like a cheshire cat as he looked on. He flinched a little when Marella sponged off his back with lukewarm water.
"Good Lord, do you think I've never seen a half-naked man before?" Jackie asked, flashing Michael a look of irritation.
Michael actually blushed. "I'd really rather you left."
"In a minute." She gently touched his knee through the material. "It really bothers you you're not in control, doesn't it? And over something as stupid as this. What happened, does it feel unstable?"
"I must have twisted the knee or something."
"Dom, you're going to need to Ace wrap that knee of his," Jackie told the older man. "I'm vacating," she continued, "since Michael seems to think it'll offend his delicate sensibilities if I see him in his underwear." She smiled. "You must not be feeling too bad if you can still blush."
"Unruly wench," Michael muttered, suppressing a smile that threatened his lips. He watched her exit the building and his expression sobered.
Hawke caught it and moved over to his comrade. "Take it easy, Michael," the pilot advised in a low voice. "I know what you're thinking. I'd ask her before you assume anything. You know what a liar Preston is. He hits low. He was trying to get a rise out of you and succeeded."
Michael nodded in concession. "He did manage that, didn't he?" He turned to Marella. "When I've finished contacting The Committee with a progress report, send Jackie over to the barracks, will you, Marella? I need to talk to her." Michael's face softened. "You're good friends," Michael said quietly as Dom helped him out of his flightsuit and wrapped his knee up
expertly. "Thank you."
"Well, whattaya know," Dom said, looking owlishly at the Deputy Director. "That sounded like sincerity to me. Gee, Michael. You might have a shot at being human yet."
Michael smiled and gave Dom an Italian gesture that essentially meant 'Up yours.'
******************************
The Deputy Director looked up from his absorption in a Tom Clancy novel when the door to the barracks opened and Jackie walked in, hair wet, having changed into a pair of blue jeans and a blue tank top covered with a loose cotton blouse. He replaced his bookmark and smiled warmly, patting the edge of his bed; expressionless, she sat down beside him.
"How're you feeling?" she asked, concern in her voice.
"Sore. I'll mend. How are you doing?"
"Feel a damn sight cleaner. I'm fine."
"Yeah? You smell good." He reached over, touching the dark hair that fell about her face, fingertips brushing her cheek. "You know you handled yourself like a pro."
"Thanks. I knew how much was riding on this. I wasn't about to screw up."
"We can cover as far as destroying the duplicate Airwolf," Michael said. "The Committee always knew there was a good possibility of that. They also took into consideration we'd have to destroy the information on the disks."
"At least you got Preston alive. Although I really don't see the point in bringing him back. All you'll do is terminate him anyway."
"I know. The most important thing was maintaining international security, and I'd say we've more than done that. Having Preston alive was an added bonus. But an important one. We know there's one more set of schematics and computer designs on Airwolf, and he's probably the only one alive who knows where they are. Whether or not we manage to get the information out of
him, when we bring him back, I'm sure The Committee plans to use him as an example to the rest of the Intelligence Community on the consequences of betrayal. Not that they should need to be reminded."
"Lock me in a room with him for two minutes. It'll save taxpayer dollars." Her eyes dropped and she bit her lip.
"I want you as far away from him as possible," Michael told her darkly. "I admired your self-control. I know it wasn't easy."
"No, Michael, it wasn't. But I insisted on coming along, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did. I'm still not sure it was wise."
"Maybe not. But it's done." She sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Marella said you wanted to see me."
Michael nodded. "Yes. I did." He looked into her eyes. "I came clean about your parents, Jackie. I hated doing it, putting you through it, but I did."
"Yes, and I appreciate that, even if it was a little late."
"Then you'll understand when I ask you if you have anything to tell me about Mr. Preston."
Her hesitation was marked. "Like what?"
"Anything you want to tell me."
"What are you fishing for? Come out and say it, Michael."
"Specifically about your past relationship with him."
Jackie stared at him a moment, then relaxed noticeably. Finally, she spoke. "There was no relationship, Michael. He tried to play dutch uncle to me and failed. I had you. I didn't want anyone else."
"So you really had no feelings for him one way or another?"
"I tolerated him, okay? Dad seemed to like him, so did Mom. They had him over to the house a lot when they weren't working on Firm projects. You know that, you were there some of those times. I couldn't avoid the contact. Is this a jealousy thing or something?"
"Jackie . . ." Michael stopped, debating on whether or not to ask the next question. "Did you ever . . . did he ever put moves on you?"
Again, she hesitated. Then her gaze lifted to his. "He told you we slept together, didn't he?" she asked quietly. "He's a liar." She swallowed hard. "He tried to . . . he almost raped me when I was seventeen years old."
"Oh, my God." Michael sat up abruptly. "Why didn't you . . ."
"Tell you about it? How could I?" She ran a hand through her wet hair and looked away.
"Had you told anyone? Your mother?"
"No, Michael."
He pulled her into his chest. "I'm so sorry," he whispered as he stroked her hair.
"It was nine years ago. I never even really thought about it until just now." Her voice shook and her entire body tightened. "I hate that bastard!"
"Shhh." Michael breathed in her scent. "I've got you, sweetheart."
"I want him dead!" She pulled away from him, looking straight into his face. "I want him dead." She tossed her head, trying to keep the break from her voice. "He's hurt so many people." She shook his head and swiped a hand over her eyes. "He deserves to die."
Michael reached for her again, and this time, she let his arms remain. All the while, he whispered soothingly to her, hands losing themselves in her damp hair, smoothing over her back and arms. His hate for the man boiled steadily but he put his fury down. There would be plenty of time for that later. Michael fully planned to arrange to be alone with him --
long enough to get in a few punches. Long enough to get the truth out of him about the third set of plans for Airwolf. But right now the only thing he cared about was the woman he held. How much more had she remained silent about? Michael wondered. She'd done some major growing up by herself that he hadn't even realized.
"I love you," he whispered into her ear, lips brushing it gently, almost sensually. "Hold onto me, sweetheart." He desperately tried to keep the shaking out of his voice. "I wish you'd told me. I'd have bounced him into the bloody innards of Nepal."
"And it would have put you behind on the Airwolf project by months -- maybe years. You needed him, Michael. He never touched me again. I never gave him the chance."
"You said . . . almost raped you."
She leaned back from him, looking down. "He took me to the opening of some play -- to this day I don't remember what it was. We had dinner, you know, the usual stuff we do when you take me out. I guess I must have really been a good actress to make him believe I was having such a good time because evidently, he thought I was sending signals. All I did was act
like I was having a better time than I actually was, and he started climbing all over me in the limo -- told the driver to take a roundabout way home. I screamed bloody murder and kneed him in the groin, got out of the car, took the train and walked home. End of story."
"I may just give you those two minutes in a locked room with him that you asked for." Michael touched the corner of her eye where there was just a spot of wetness. "You are something, Ms. Kendricks."
She turned her face away. "Thanks for noticing."
"You'd be surprised what I've noticed lately."
She was quiet a moment, then looked back up at him. "Do you mind if I bunk here for awhile? I'm really wiped."
"Not a bit."
He watched as she stretched out on the bottom bunk across from him, wishing he'd issued an invitation for her to lie down beside him so he could have made her feel safe lying in his arms. This mission had been a mistake. She should never have come. The emotional toll it was taking was hard to keep under wraps. But she'd done it. She'd kept her personal feelings
out of it as much as she could. He opened the book again, trying to concentrate on the story. After a few minutes, he gave up, lying back himself to take a nap.
In light of all that had happened, Michael found his perceptions inevitably changing. Jackie wasn't the girl he'd left in Chicago almost a year ago. She'd undergone changes not readily apparent to him on the surface. Perhaps he'd been too afraid to look beneath. Perhaps they really had a shot at something more than deep friendship, he mused. Maybe -- just maybe --
they were both almost ready to take the next inevitable step.
He felt as though his eyes had been opened even as they closed to admit the grey swirls of slumber.
******************************
Jackie woke alone some hours later and laid still for a moment, breathing in Michael's lingering scent still present in the barracks. She never felt safer than when she was near him or in his arms and wished she'd been curled up next to him earlier. She'd thought about asking him, but for some reason decided against it. The kiss he had given her before
they'd left on the search and destroy mission still remained vividly in her memory.
She opened the door and looked out. There were a few rebels scattered about the compound here and there and Airwolf still stood on the helipad. Resting in this relatively safe haven for awhile was probably a good idea, considering what everyone had been through. She heaved a breath and checked her watch. It was mid-morning. Her stomach began to rumble a little and she
wondered what she'd find in the way of food in the mess hall. She looked over toward the building where Preston was being held and noticed a small contingent of rebels milling about outside the door. Curious, she started walking toward the building. Something was going on. The Chadian guards outside let her pass and she opened the wooden door quietly, face filling the crack.
Hawke and Dom sat outside the cell. Inside, Preston was bound to a chair, a bright spot shining in his face with Michael behind it. Preston's face had already sustained a few well-placed punches. From the way Michael shook his hand, it had been the Deputy Director who put them there. She slipped into a chair by Dom who looked over at her.
"I don't think Michael would want you here," he told her in a low voice.
She was silent a moment, then ventured, "Well, we don't always get what we want, do we?"
"I can keep this up for a long time, Preston," Michael was saying. "And then I have several other people lined up ready to have a go at you. Give up the location of the other set of Airwolf schematics."
"And what will you give me?" Preston asked through split, swollen lips. "The Firm . . . or Khadaffi. It doesn't really matter. I'm dead either way." He smiled. "Why don't you send your gorgeous little goddaughter in here to interrogate me, Michael? We can reminisce about the intimate details of our lovely night together."
Jackie stood suddenly, incensed, chair falling backwards behind her. Anger showed in every line of her body. Both Preston and Michael looked up at the noise.
"Jackie, get out of here." Michael's voice was low, dangerous.
"Jackie, my darling. Come to say hello to an old friend?" Preston chuckled, though the effort cost him.
She walked over to the cell bars and ran her hands down the cool metal, chin resting on the crossbar. "Hello, Gray. You must have something that Michael is extremely interested in. He doesn't usually roll out the red carpet like this for just anybody."
"Jackie, I said get out." Michael's voice was losing it's calm.
"No," she said. "I want to stay. And watch." She licked dry lips.
"Hawke, get her out of here," Michael directed.
She felt Hawke's presence at her elbow but her eyes never moved away from Preston's figure. "Don't touch me, Hawke." She leaned into the bars again. "I want to watch every minute of this."
Hawke knew there was no way Michael would ever let Jackie see him work someone over in an interrogation. He was surprised Jackie didn't realize it as well. But it looked as though his protegee had nothing on her mind but watching the enemy put to the thumbscrews. "Jacks . . ." he started.
"I'm entitled!" she suddenly shouted. "After all of this, I'm entitled!"
"You aren't entitled to anything unless I say you are," Michael told her in a barely-controlled voice. "Get out."
Jackie's eyes slid to Michael's intense features. He was not looking at her. His only world at the moment was Preston. Finally, she moved away from the cell bars, turning on her heel to walk silently out the door. When the night air hit her, her stomach soured. She walked across the compound and sat down on one of the wooden benches against a building, lighting up an
unfiltered Camel, not even quite sure what it was she was waiting for.
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END PART IV
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