by Derrick Ferguson

PART THREE

Sirianni pressed a button on the remote and the far wall, which had depicted a map of the world, vanished, displaying a blank holographic screen. Sirianni grinned. "I love technology."

A voice spoke, a lovely, sensual voice. "Please indicate specifications."

Chan snorted. "Is that Elizabeth Taylor's voice AGAIN? How do you keep reprogramming her voice into the computer's systems after I delete it?"

Sirianni chuckled. "Remember, Chop, I taught you everything you know, but I didn't teach you everything I know. Liz, authorize voiceprint access: Carlo Sirianni."

"Voiceprint code authorized. Carlo Sirianni: Director of Strategic Operations, Blackhawk International approved."

"Display photographs and specifications for current Blackhawk International Strategic Operations Team. Code Name: The Blackhawks."

The wall shimmered and on the left side of the wall, a photo was shown and on the right, the current specs and status; the man shown was a brown skinned, lean faced man with the hungry demeanor of a Doberman.

Sirianni spoke: "Edward Padilla, Assistant Director of Field Operations. Nationality: Hispanic. Navy Pilot with the rank of Lt. Commander, honorably discharged to serve with Blackhawk International. Specialities: Administration and Law. He and McCall have the most history. They went to high school and college together. Took classes at the Banzai Institute. Padilla is McCall's second in command. He's a helluva pilot, well, they all are or we wouldn't have chosen them, right? A level-headed cat. McCall made a good choice for him as second. Padilla's not afraid to tell McCall when he's wrong, yet he'll back him to the wall when McCall's right.'

Chan reached for a cigar. "We've been through all this, Chuck. I told you, Padilla's the man we should have picked to be Blackhawk."

"But Padilla's not a leader and McCall is." Sirianni hit the button and the picture changed to show a younger man, thin as a licorice whip with an engaging, devil may care grin.

"Ronald Scocco: Field and Tactical Support. Nationality: American born Italian, fourth generation. Discharged honorably from the Army with the rank of Sergeant to serve with Blackhawk International. A street kid abandoned by his parents and family. McCall found him and bascially sponsored the kid. Got him to join the Army and gave him some much needed discipline. Ronnie's turning out to have an aptitude for flying and McCall's been training him in hand-to-hand. His service record's good and he's stand-up so far."

Chan lit his cigar. "Kid sidekicks. The Blackhawks never needed them. You want a smoke?"

Sirianni ignored his friend and pressed the remote again and the wall showed a older, bald-headed man built like a pit bull.

"Pasquale Zollo: Field and Tactical Support. Nationality: American born second generation Italian. Specialist in Covert Ops. Served with distinction in Vietnam and Desert Storm. Retired from the Army with the rank of Lt. Colonel. The other team members call him 'The Old Man' and respect his combat experience. Still a helluva fighter and McCall looks to him whenever they go into combat situations. Plus, he's a damn good cook. Wish we'd had him back in the old days."

Weng blew out bluish cigar smoke. "He's also got a wife and eight kids. Not the kind of homelife for a Blackhawk."

Sirianni growled, "Just because YOU never married, don't think that other people can't be a Blackhawk and enjoy a married life."

"Oh, no? How long has it been since you and Mairzey have talked?"

"I'm going to forget you said that, CHOP-CHOP."

"Point taken. I apologize, Carlo. That was a cheap shot. Go on."

Sirianni hit the remote again and the picture changed to show a man maybe fifteen years younger than Zollo. His brown hair was thinning and he looked scholorly.

"Stephen Lapinsky: Field and Tactical Support: Nationality: Native born Polish. Became an American citizen at twenty-one. Served with distinction in the Polish Air Force and was honorably discharged with the rank of Major to serve with Blackhawk International. Specialist in Medicine and Psychology. He's written books on Aberrant Psychology that have been used by the FBI in their training classes."

Chan nodded. "I like Lapinsky. He knows his Andrew Lloyd Webber."

Sirriani pressed the remote again and the picture changed to show a red haired woman in her early thirties. Her smile was at the same time dangerous and seductive.

"Regina Mallory: Techinical and Mechanical Support: Native born Irish. Won the Nobel Prize for her innovative work in the fields of physics and cybernetic technology. Five years ago, her lab was blown up by terrorists and she lost her legs and arms. Using cybernetic technology she herself created, she was equipped with bionic arms and legs totally indistinguishable from organic limbs. Not only does she provide much needed technical assistance to McCall, she's also his 'secret weapon' since the details of her bionic limbs are of EYES ONLY status and gives him a needed edge in the field."

Sirianni hit the button again and the picture showed a black woman who could only be described as elfish.

"Tracy Scott: Weapons, Martial Arts and Communications Specialist. Brooklyn born African-American. She's kinda taken on the role of McCall's bodyguard in the field. She's a wonder. Black belts in Shotokan karate, three different styles of Kung Fu and judo. The woman can whip Jackie Chan's ass and never break a sweat. In addition, she's a dead shot with just about any weapon you can hand her. Her idea of a good time is taking on a bunch of ninjas before breakfast. To be honest, I don't know much about her background, but McCall insisted she be on the team, so I approved her and to be honest, I'm glad we have her and the bad guys don't."

Sirianni pressed the remote again. "And that takes us to Fortune McCall     the man who would be Blackhawk."

Chan snorted again and whipped his chair around so that he woudn't have to face the screen. Cigar smoke drifted upwards.

The screen showed a tall black man with an almost bald head. The hair he had was very curly and tight and even through the holographic projection, the vitality and energy of his copper colored eyes were evident. The picture showed him dressed in full Blackhawk regalia and his right hand was in a thumbs-up position.

"Fortune McCall: Director of Field Operations for Blackhawk International: Code Name: Blackhawk."

Chan snorted again. Quite loudly this time.

Sirianni continued: "American born African-American. Served with DISTINCTION and HONORS with the United States Navy. Discharged HONORABLY with the rank of Lt. Commander to serve with Blackhawk International. Yes, he had some reprimands on his sheet, but he proved himself a capable and innovative leader and his showed great aptitude in the fields of commnications, operations, tactics and too many others to name!" Sirianni stood up and walked over to Chan's chair and spun it around to face his friend.

"Not to mention that the guy turned down scholorships to the best colleges in the world! He was such an outstanding athelete that he could have played for the NBA,the NFL and the godamned Yankees if he wanted to! They were all lined up to sign the kid! But NO     he wanted to be Blackhawk since he he was old enough to read the damned comics Natale's STILL putting out to this day! He gave up million dollars contracts to take a paycheck and shit from you about the job YOU and I hired him to do!"

Weng Chan looked up at one of the two oldest surviving friends he still had and blew out more cigar smoke. "So what do you want to do?"

Sirianni stepped back. "I don't want to fight about this with you, Weng. We're both too damn old. For God's sake, let McCall in on this. Tell him what's going on and let him work the problem. Stop trying to be The Man. You're not The Man. Let Fortune McCall be Blackhawk."

The tension in the room was broken by a new voice that came from hidden speakers in Chan's desk. A voice that even after all this time the two men obeyed without question.

"Gentlemen     if you're finished with your ranting and raving, I've got a few words on the subject at hand."

Part Four

(©2000 Derrick Ferguson)

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