Missing Pages

The Mediterranean sun was a coin on the horizon, burning against the water. Stringfellow Hawke stood next to Airwolf's black hull, dust and rotor wash curling around his boots. His gaze was already far away, somewhere between the sea and the memory of an empty chair in the cabin by the lake. Dominic Santini fussed over the landing gear, grumbling, but never too loudly. Caitlin O'Shannessy checked her sidearm and watched the edges of the map, alert and impatient. They'd been dropped into Malta by The Firm—a page missing from Archangel's dossier, a photo of a hostage, and a name: Dr. Tasso. It was never just an extraction, not with The Firm. Archangel's words echoed: "Get Dr. Tasso out quietly, or the body count will not be on our side." Marella had handed String the file, her eyes studying him. "The safehouse is here. But the men holding Tasso—no one knows who sent them." String nodded, but his brother's shadow was the price of every mission. That's why he flew for men he did not trust. They waited for darkness. The lair’s cave mouth framed Airwolf, black paint dulled by dust, cockpit lights ready. Caitlin caught String's arm as he climbed up. "You sure about this?" He looked at her, the lines in his face more visible in the firelight. "I don't leave people behind." She almost smiled. "Neither do I." As they lifted off, Dominic’s hands were steady on the controls. Caitlin sat behind String, headset crackling with encrypted silence. The night was all instrument green and hush, Mediterranean lights a thin necklace on the coast. At the safehouse, things unraveled. A single car where there should have been none. Two men with rifles scanning the alleys. String landed Airwolf three blocks away, shrouded by black and the hum of the turbines. They split up: String and Caitlin for the back, Dominic to watch the front. Inside, Dr. Tasso was tied to a chair, his face battered but alive. Caitlin covered the stairs. String started to cut Tasso loose—then the ambush snapped shut: a third man in the shadows, cocked pistol, eyes hard. "You shouldn't be here." String’s answer was his hands: a quick disarm, a silent struggle. The gun went off, shattering the hush. Caitlin fired once, sure, clean. Dominic, outside, revved Airwolf's turbines—a warning, a threat. Sirens wailed in the distance. They ran, carrying Tasso, the city behind them. Airwolf’s rotors screamed as they lifted from the rooftop, searchlights slashing below. In the cockpit, Tasso gasped, "Why did you come for me?" String glanced at the empty co-pilot chair, then at Caitlin. "Because someone’s still missing. And until I find him, nobody else gets left behind." The night swallowed them, rotor howl fading. Another extraction—another page missing.

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