by Derrick Ferguson

Part Two

Weng Chan insisted on driving himself to work every day. Of course he didn't have to. As CEO of Blackhawk International, he was counted among the top twenty richest men in the world. He could have had a fleet of drivers and cars to take him wherever he wanted to go. But Weng Chan was a man who always liked staying in touch with his roots. It reminded him of younger days     

He parked in front of the corporate headquarters of Blackhawk International, located on Manhattan's Sixth Avenue, just a five minute walk to Times Square. Weng Chan paused and looked up     .

The Blackhawk International Corporate and Strategic Headquaters was a solid black slab 80 stories high. A holographic projector atop the building displayed the Blackhawk symbol, six stories high, the proud hawk's head proclaiming that the name and heritage of Blackhawk still existed.

Weng Chan entered the building. The staff was well trained and had standing orders: Leave Mr. Chan Alone.

Chan walked across the spacious lobby to a private elevator located near the reception desk. Chan nodded at the young woman manning the desk and held his hand out. The woman pressed a DNA scanner to his hand and the readout screen glowed green. If it hadn't. Chan would have been detained for questioning by a dozen armed guards. The headquarters of Blackhawk International had been breached in the past and Chan had spent millions to make sure it wouldn't happen again.

Chan entered the private elevator and was whisked upwards to his private suite of offices on the 80th Floor. Before he was allowed access, he had to pass a retina scan and a voice print analysis. That was because everything above the 78th Floor was devoted to Strategic and Field Operations.

Or to put it simply : The Blackhawks

The doors of the elevator opened and Chan stepped out to collide with a man slightly taller than him. This man had a boyish face, with age-weathered freckles and silvery hair that still had streaks of red here and there. He reached out both hands to grab Chan by the shoulders.

"Hey, Chop! You wanna slow down a bit there, chum? I'm on your side, y'know     ."

Chan pushed past Chuck Sirianni and headed for his office. Sirianni sighed and followed. They had been Blackhawks for so long that it was difficult to remember when they HADN'T been Blackhawks and it had always seemed that he and the man they had affectionately called 'Chop-Chop' or 'Chopper' had ended up being thrown together despite their different political leanings.

Sirianni and Chan had come to blows back in the late 60's when Sirianni's connections with the CIA had put him at odds with the moral goals of The Blackhawks. In fact, Sirianni had joined The Blackhawks with the aim of using the team for CIA covert operations. Those aims had put Sirianni on the outs with not only Chan, but Janos Prohaska, the man carrying on the name of Blackhawk at that time. Chuck Sirianni had retired from that active life for some years, but three years ago he returned to Blackhawk International at the invitaion of a man he had thought long dead.

The need for Chuck Sirianni was simple: he had connections in the intelligence community and he had been a Blackhawk. Sirianni was needed to help Weng Chan in the selection, formation and training of a new Blackhawk team: one that would carry out and preserve the goals and ideals of the original Blackhawks.

The problem was this: Who could be the new leader of the team? What man could be worthy to be named Blackhawk?

Sirianni and Chan had found Fortune McCall, a Navy pilot with the rank of Lt. Commander and a reputation for taking crazy chances and a thirst for adventure. Sirianni liked McCall right off     he'd reminded him of how The Blackhawks had been back in the early days     McCall was ready to take on any adventure. Like most flyers. he worshipped The Blackhawks and leaped at the chance to lead a new team.

That was before Weng Chan started in     

Sirianni followed his teammate into the spacious office. "Chop     Chopper     WENG!"

Chan spun around and spread his arms wide. "YES?! I'm here! Yes, I'm going to stop running a multi-billion coporation just to hear what you have to say, Chuck! So GO AHEAD!"

Weng's office had a picture window that looked out over 6th Avenue. The desk was a bronze and marble horseshoe that came equipped with all sorts of surprises.

Weng seated himself behind the desk and started tapping in access codes.

Sirianni said, "Do you want to tell me why you're so pissed and maybe I can help you with it, or do you want to keep on being mad at the world?"

Chan stopped and rubbed his tired eyes. "Your boy McCall took things into his own hands and snatched Anton Korbel."

"You know this for a fact?"

"I know that McCall's second-in-command is covering for him. I know McCall is in Cristobal and I know that that Fortune McCall is NOT going to be Blackhawk and I don't care how much you or anybody else says he is."

Sirianni sat down on a leather chair in front of Chan's desk. "Weng     you gotta cut this kid some slack     .he's been busting his ass for three years for the right to call himself Blackhawk     he's taken on guys we wouldv've lost out to on the first crack at bat     " Sirianni's voice grew stronger as he spoke on."     he's got the best crew I've seen in many a year. And you know what's the best thing I've seen? McCall put together a TEAM. Want me to run them down again?"

Chan waved a hand carelessly. "I can see you're on a roll, go ahead..you've probably got their specs committed to memory."

Sirriani snorted. "Damn right I do." Sirianni grabbed a remote control from Chan's desk and pointed it at the far wall.

Part Three

(©2000 Derrick Ferguson)

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