Ghosts

Title: Ghosts
Author: ddrake
Email: ddrake@99main.com
Website: http://debirlfan.livejournal.com/
Fandom(s): Airwolf
Genre (general, hetero or slash) gen with references to established relationship
Rating: FRAO
Summary: A voice from beyond the grave changes everything
Warnings: Sexual references, violence, language
Notes: Sequel to “Journey into Darkness” - set 7 years later
Acknowledgments: I would like to thank Linda and Enfleurage for their input and betas – any errors that remain are mine.
Airwolf (unfortunately) isn't mine. Characters and settings belong to their creators. No profit to be made from this story.

“Ghosts”

Zeus leaned back in the dark leather chair, tapping his fingernails impatiently on his desk. The Director of the clandestine government agency known as the Firm was not a man who waited well. The phone rang, and it snatched the instrument up before it had completed it's first ring. He leaned forward. “Yes?”

The voice came over the line, distorted ever so slightly by the scramblers it had passed through. “This is Apollo, sir.”

“Well?” Zeus demanded.

“Nothing, sir. We've been through Locke's office, the computers at the Lair, what materials could be recovered from Santini Air. I've had people search all four residences. We have nothing.”

“Damn it. You've missed something. Keep looking.” Even as he said the words, he knew it was probably futile. He slammed the receiver back onto it's base. Zeus rose to his feet. There was one resource that might provide him with the information he needed. One resource that he was loathe to utilize. He reached over and picked up the receiver again, punching the button for the inter-office line. He heard the click as his aide picked up on the other end.

“Get me a flight to DC,” he snarled.. “Now.”

-*-

Michael strode into the outer office, briefcase in hand. He was in a foul mood; his meeting with Senator Haskell had run late, and he still hadn't gotten around to grabbing any lunch. Worse, it was raining. Again.

His receptionist looked up from her nails and emery board. “Zeus is looking for you.” She cracked her gum. “He said he wanted to see you just as soon as you got in.”

The third new receptionist in less than two months. After awhile, they began to run together. He tried to remember the girl's name. Susan? No. She insisted on going by Suzie. “Suzie, did he say what it was about?” He didn't even bother to complain about the gum. He had tried. Repeatedly. It wasn't worth the effort. If he did manage to turn Suzie into any sort of actual assistant, she'd be gone within a week and he would end up with someone even more incompetent..

“Nope. Just that he wanted to see you right away.”

Lovely. That was just what he wanted. One of the few good things about working in Washington was that Zeus seldom left California. Unfortunately, today had to be the exception. “All right, let me get rid of this.” He indicated the briefcase as he headed for this desk.

If it had been Marella, Samantha or Lydia in the outer office, they would have offered to take it for him so he could go ahead and get the meeting over with. But it wasn't. He sighed. Lydia was in Germany, Sam in Morocco – and God had given Marella enough sense to quit the Firm entirely.

Suzie's phone rang as Michael started to open the door to his inner office. “Yes, Admiral Davis,” he heard her say, “I'm afraid Archangel is very busy, but I'll be sure he gets your message--”

Michael cut her off. “Suzie, put that through to my phone.”

“But sir, Zeus said--”

“Put Davis through,” Michael demanded, in a tone that suggested she had better do as he asked. He closed the door behind him and sat down, dropping the briefcase on the desk and picking up the phone. Given the choice between talking to the Admiral and dealing with the Director, the Admiral would win every time.

“John, hello,” he said into the phone.

“They lost her,” the older man said, with no preamble.

“Lost who?” If Michael could change one thing about the Admiral, it would be the man's habit of starting a a conversation in the middle – and assuming that you had some idea what he was talking about.

“Airwolf.”

A quick wave of something approximating fear washed over him. He knew, better than anyone, just what that helicopter could do in the wrong hands. He sighed deeply. “That's Locke's problem, not mine.” All in all, he was just as happy to be on the opposite coast.

There was a hesitation on the other end of the phone. “You don't know, do you, son? They sure have managed to cut you out of the loop.”

“What?”

“Locke is dead.,” the Admiral said, quietly. “They all are. String's brother, the Santini girl, Rivers. Santini Air and nearly half a block around it was leveled by a gas explosion yesterday. It was no accident.”

Michael sat back in his chair, stunned. “So presumably whoever killed them has Airwolf.”

“No. There's reason to believe that Airwolf was moved before the explosion. There were prior attempts. St. John believed that someone from the Firm was involved. There is a good chance he was the one who relocated the helicopter.”

As Michael considered that, his door opened, and Suzie stuck her head in. “Zeus just called looking for you, again.”

Normally, he would have lectured her for not knocking, but he was distracted enough that he let it go. “Admiral,” he said into the phone, “I'll get back to you.”

Moments later, Michael walked into Zeus' office. The man rose to meet him, saccharine smile on his face. “Michael, how are you?” Zeus reached out to shake hands.

He ignored the gesture. “I understand you've lost a helicopter.”

Zeus sat back down, pretending he hadn't noticed the snub. He motioned toward the chair in front of the desk. “Well, that's not quite the situation. Airwolf isn't exactly lost, we've just been unable to locate it so it can be retrieved.”

Michael remained standing, towering over the other man. “I assume that's why you called me in. Just what do you think I can do?”

“We believe that the elder Hawke moved the aircraft some time before his death. We felt that you might be uniquely positioned to have some idea where to look for it.”

“I've never even met St. John.” He wondered just how far he could push Zeus.

“True,” the Director acquiesced, “but he did have contact with Stringfellow prior to the younger Hawke's death. It's possible that St. John may moved Airwolf to a location his brother told him about, or even to somewhere he used in the past.” Zeus smiled again, the expression so artificial it might have been plastered on with wallpaper paste. “Michael, if you were to... facilitate... the recovery, the committee would be willing to once again place you in charge of the Airwolf prototype.”

Michael decided to find out just how badly they wanted Airwolf back. “Would that offer include the reinstatement of my division, and my personnel?”

The smile left Zeus' face. “Yes,” he answered, finally. “I suppose it would.”

“I'll need two tickets for LAX.” Michael headed toward the doorway, then turned to look back over his shoulder. “First class, of course.”

“First class,” answered the Director, his expression that of a man who had just swallowed something very, very sour. “Of course.”

-*-

“Give it up for the night,” Michael suggested.

Caitlin leaned over the dining room table, studying one of the many satellite photographs that covered it. “Airwolf has to be somewhere.” She picked up a map, checking it against the photo. “You're sure they checked the boneyard?'

“Checked and double checked.” One of the first places they had looked was the aircraft junkyard where the younger Hawke had hidden Airwolf from Bogard's satellite search.

She dropped the papers back onto the pile, straightening up with a sigh. “It's got to be inside. Somewhere under cover.. And if it is, we're never going to find it.”

Michael tended to agree with her. They had been looking for two weeks. They had started with the obvious – every hanger in the Van Nuys area had been checked, either openly or surreptitiously, as had any outside of the area that had any connection to the Airwolf crew. From there, they had moved on to check natural caves and ledges; any place where the helicopter could have been parked out of the sight of the spy satellites.

It was worse than looking for a needle in a haystack. At least with the haystack, you knew the scope of the search. Airwolf could be anywhere.

Caitlin yawned. “I think I'm going to go take a shower and get ready for bed. Are you coming?”

He glanced up at the clock. It was nearly midnight. “I'll be there in a few minutes.”

Michael watched Caitlin as she walked away, then returned his attention to the computer printouts he had been reading. He had hoped that searching sales of aviation fuel might provide some lead, but that was looking like a dead end, too.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the headache that was threatening to form there. He hated to admit defeat. Finding Airwolf would give him back the division that Zeus had stolen from him. It would get him out of Washington, and back to the Knightsbridge office where he belonged. Unfortunately, it didn't look as if it was going to happen.

The ringing of the phone startled him, and he grabbed the receiver, picking it up before the ringing could disturb Caitlin's shower. “Briggs,” he announced into the mouthpiece.

“You're a hard man to find,” said the voice at the other end of the line.

It was a voice that he had been certain he would never hear again. But that was impossible. “Who is this?” he demanded, annoyed.

“Who do you think it is? Your employers are looking for something. I know where it is.”

It was a trap, it had to be. The man who belonged to that voice was dead and buried. “What do you want?”

“Meet me.”

“When and where?” Trap or not, he wasn't sure that he had any choice but to play along.

“The cabin. Tomorrow, around noon. Come alone. Drive in off the fire road, you'll have to walk from there.”

Before he could answer, the phone went dead.

Michael sat for a minute, staring at the telephone. The man had sounded exactly like Stringfellow Hawke. However, Hawke was dead. It had to be a trap, or at best, some trick arranged by the committee. He had no idea what the purpose of that trap might be.

Standing, he went into the bedroom and stripped off his clothes. Caitlin was still in the shower, and he slipped in to join her. “Did I hear the phone?” she asked. Unbidden, she started soaping his back.

“Yeah. I've got to go out early in the morning. I've got a meeting. You might as well sleep in.” It was as close to the truth as he was willing to go. If he told her any more, she would insist on going with him.

“Sounds good to me.”

Michael turned, and brought his lips to hers. It was the sort of kiss that was destined to lead to much more.

“I thought you had an early meeting?” Caitlin smiled.

If he was right and he was walking into a trap, this might be his last chance. He kissed her again. “Not that early.”

-*-