Original subtitles

Hey, come on, lighten up.

So we've had a couple of rough missions lately.

What, you're going to throw in the towel?

Three sevens.

No, it's not that.

I've just been laying my life on the line too long.

I've had it.

Sounds as if you need a break.

Yeah. A permanent break.

Three aces.

Four aces.

I call.

You lose.

Chuck. Get another round on Rivers here, please.

Chuck, what is it? My face? Come on, tell me.

Okay, hang on a second, one more game. And if I win, you don't quit.

I'm not sure I can cover that bet.

Ah, come on, try.

You blocked him. Get out of his way.

My apologies for interrupting your current programming,

but I have a message of vital importance for all of you.

Where'd the basketball game go?

Catch this.

Mankind is in great peril.

That peril is disease.

Contagious afflictions of the body.

The ultimate absurdity exists

when a healthy individual must isolate himself

from all human contact simply to stay healthy

and avoid illness.

This is wrong. This is cruel. This is foolish.

In reality, it should,

and must be the other way round.

I am therefore directing all nations of the world

to establish isolated communities,

and to begin immediately deporting those

with diseases to these colonies.

I would advise all those in power

to watch the following very carefully.

It will become apparent

why you have no option but to obey.

I give notice now

that all nations must begin deportation of diseased citizens

within 48 hours

or face the consequences.

My name is Malduke.

I know that in the future you'll thank me,

and recognize my actions as those of a savior.

Goodnight, all.

I would advise all those in power

to watch the following very carefully.

It will become apparent

why you have no option but to obey.

That little number was electronically back-doored

through every television channel known to man.

That's almost impossible, isn't it?

Not with very advanced technology.

It appears this Malduke has put up

a private broadcast satellite into orbit.

Those photographs indicate it also has surveillance capacity.

A spy in the sky, huh?

As good, if not better than anything we or the Soviets have up there.

The National Security Council and the Pentagon is in a panic over it.

What's the story on the freighter?

It's obviously adrift and the crew dead.

It is a Liberian freighter.

The Trident Queen, just out of Yokohama.

It mysteriously broke contact with another vessel just north of Wake Island.

We don't know why, but the Japanese are in a cold sweat over it.

They've requested our cooperation on sweeping for it.

Who the hell is this Malduke?

Well, he's obviously powerful and dangerous.

The rest is a mystery.

Goodnight, all.

Search One, this is Wake Control.

We make a radar target, estimated five miles from you

on vector zero-eight-niner.

That's affirmative, Wake Control.

Search One going to zero-eight-niner.

Wake Control, I'm coming under fire.

Appears like tracer of some kind.

I believe we'll do a complete blood transfer this afternoon.

You feel up to it?

To the contrary, Panov.

It stimulates me.

The sonic laser defense system

has successfully destroyed the approaching target.

Good.

Shall I have our people open direct communications with world leaders?

Queen to knight 7-B.

Tracer?

Unlikely at that range.

Any guesses on the tracking mechanism, Jason?

Could be radar aiming and guidance, so approach with caution.

Malduke, there's another target approaching the freighter.

Only a fool bumps his head against the same wall twice.

Got it. Six miles and closing.

What the hell is this stuff?

Ultra-high frequency emissions.

Lasers?

Yeah. My suggestion is that we take evasive action immediately.

Jam the radar aiming system on that baby.

I've tried everything in the book, but it's not working.

Maybe it's not radar-guided. Guess again before it fries us.

If it's not tracking our form, it might be going on sound.

It's worth a try. Going to whisper mode.

The approaching target has disarmed the sonic guidance.

Put the satellite image on my monitor.

Closer.

Must be some top secret weapon.

It's only two miles from the freighter.

Scan their radio frequency.

Put me in direct contact with the pilot.

Two miles and closing. Let's get a good look at this thing.

Stop immediately.

Come no closer to the freighter.

It is rigged with explosives, and will be detonated if you don't obey.

Bluff? - Maybe.

We'll hover in position and keep him talking.

Meantime, open up a second frequency to Jason.

Malduke?

I got Jason.

Jason, can you track the transmission to its source?

Keep him on the air, Saint John.

Malduke, this is Saint John Hawke.

There appears to be no one alive on that freighter.

If you don't blow it up, maybe we will.

I would urge against such a move, Mr. Hawke.

The freighter is carrying atomic waste

from Japanese nuclear plants.

If detonated, it would destroy all life in the Pacific Basin.

You do understand.

Atomic waste.

It would destroy all animal and plant life.

The Pacific Basin generates a major portion of the world's oxygen supply.

That's one hell of a piece of leverage if it's true.

Any luck tracking his transmission, Jason?

He's on a satellite down arm.

Could be transmitting from any point on the globe.

Oh, my God.

Saint John, I ran a computation on the orbital track of Malduke's satellite.

It's close enough to read your altimeter.

Do not return to base.

Go into a holding pattern. Do you copy?

I copy. Thanks for the warning.

It will be out of observing distance in about 20 minutes.

Understood.

The target is maintaining a pattern, Malduke. They must know we're tracking them.

Well, we've confirmed the worst.

The Trident Queen is packed to the load line with atomic slag.

Terrific.

We can't approach him, and we can't locate his operations center.

We've convinced a number of countries to cooperate

in giving the appearance of carrying out Malduke's orders.

At any rate, we're buying time.

Yeah, so what do we do now? Just sit on our thumbs and wait?

You've got a better plan?

Here you see the fate of three world leaders

who responded negatively to my request.

Tragedy struck earlier today

when the foreign minister of the Republic of San Barrios died

in a spectacular explosion

en route to a summit conference.

More information has just come in on the destruction of this peace delegation

on its way to oversee treaty negotiations in the Mid East.

An appalling act of terrorism

has struck the prime minister's special committee

investigating the threats perpetrated by the mad man

who calls himself Malduke.

I trust those who'll replace them will be more cooperative.

Isn't there anything else on?

I'm really getting sick and tired of watching the same miniseries on every station.

Cool it, guys. I'm getting something.

Put it on the speakers, Jo.

I have no wish to have conversation with you.

I merely wish to speak about the threat of disease

and the soundness of my master plan.

Wait a minute.

This isn't a satellite transmission.

It's coming in terrestrial.

Can you pinpoint the location?

San Francisco Bay area.

The healthy cannot share their society with the sick and the weak.

It makes sense to isolate those afflicted into colonies.

Got it yet? - Yeah.

2.3 miles ahead.

Heading 173.

When I presented my theories to the so-called thinkers of the world,

they called me mad.

They dismissed my dreams as insanity.

I swore then that I would one day have the world in the palm of my hands,

and prove the truth of my thoughts with action.

Transmission appears to be coming from a large container.

I don't like the feel of this. - I'm with you.

I'm moving closer for a scan. - All right.

Transmitter's there, all right.

And what appears to be a tape recorder.

Oh, damn it. Saint John!

The armament bays are out.

Can you fix it? - I'll try.

Byron, call in our knights to bishop three.

Damn it!

How you coming, Mike?

I got three possible hostiles coming up to meet us.

Try the system now.

No go. - Damn it!

That should do it.

Okay, let's go hunting.

Patch me in to the pilot visually.

Well done, Mr. Hawke. But you are running out of time.

We're just getting started, Malduke. You're next.

Be warned.

If I see your machine in the air again, I will detonate the Trident Queen.

Now, this is final, Mr. Hawke.

Goodnight, and goodbye.

What's all this about, Jason?

The National Security Council met in an emergency session a few hours ago.

They've decided that an attempt must be made to board the freighter

and disarm the firing mechanisms.

And we get the job.

Yeah.

Jo, you got the weather fax update for tonight?

Right.

Heavy cloud cover over most of the North Pacific.

Clearing around 2300 hours.

That'll hide you from Malduke's satellite for the run-in.

And then what? - Then you lose your cloud cover.

You'll have to board the freighter in the dark

when the satellite's on the far side of the Earth.

How long do we have?

Thirty minutes to locate and disarm the firing devices.

After that, his satellite will probably pinpoint you.

So if you don't disarm the explosives within 30 minutes...

We get one noisy Viking's funeral.

Any options, Jason?

I'm afraid not.

This disc contains all we know

on existing triggering devices.

It'll supplement what you already know, Saint John.

Jo, load it on Airwolf's onboard computers.

I wish to hell there was another choice.

Let's finish the repairs, Mike. - Right.

I find no trace of this helicopter.

Continue scanning. I want the location of its base.

Very well, Malduke.

Our scanning capability is limited.

The cloud cover is nine-tenths over the entire Western Seaboard.

You're showing a slight pulse increase.

Hey, lighten up, Jo. We've come through worse than this.

Sure we have.

Let's get through this one, okay?

Maintain absolute radio silence once you're off the ground.

We don't want Malduke tracking your signal.

You ready to rock steady?

When this is all over, you and I are going to have a long talk

about a Company retirement plan.

Mine.

Damn it.

It's okay, kiddo.

You're the best. Don't forget it.

I won't.

Just keep the coffee hot.

Let's go get 'em.

It's a good size freighter. I'm not going to have time to cover it all.

All right, so what's the best bet?

For maximum effect, the chargers and detonators will probably be placed midships,

somewhere in the upper decks.

It's a gamble, but that's where I'd put it.

A gamble?

What's the odds?

Don't ask.

I wish to speak to Saint John Hawke.

If I do not receive a response immediately, I will detonate the freighter.

Respond on this channel immediately, Hawke.

Repeat, immediately.

Well, we can't ignore that.

We'll have to make it fast. He might trace the signal.

Malduke, this is Hawke's superior officer.

He was injured in aerial combat with your people yesterday.

You will send for him now.

He's under heavy sedation,

and the hospital is some distance away.

You have 20 minutes to get him to a radio.

There she is. Eight miles dead ahead.

Better put it on whisper mode before that laser system picks us up.

Whisper mode engaged.

She's coming up.

Booby traps. Trip wires on the deck and in the corridors.

Satellite's behind the horizon line.

She's all yours, Mike.

Hover in position, and keep the wrist monitor open.

Keep your powder dry, buddy.

Was that a good whistle or a bad whistle? - Don't know yet.

There's explosives everywhere.

I'm gonna trace the wiring now.

I'll put you through now, Malduke.

We should have heard from them by now.

If I do not receive a communication from Saint John Hawke in five minutes,

I will detonate the freighter.

By my calculations, the satellite will be in range in 10 minutes.

How's it coming, Saint John?

I've found the triggering device.

It's a Weisman system.

Pull it up on the screen and patch it through.

Now the hard part begins.

Patching through.

We got no choice.

We got to buy Saint John and Mike more time.

Let's raise him.

Malduke, Saint John Hawke is being brought to a radio now,

but you must give us a few more minutes.

Trace the location of this signal.

This is not acceptable. Why is it taking so long?

He's coming by ambulance. We expect it to arrive any minute.

Why can a radio not be brought to him?

Saint John, the red wire. - Almost blew it that time.

Starting on the red wire now.

The satellite will have us in view in five minutes, 30 seconds.

Damn it, I need more time.

I promise you, Malduke,

you will hear from Saint John Hawke any minute now.

I have the signal traced. - Is it near an airbase?

In the middle of the desert.

Quickly! Detonate the freighter.

What? - Don't you see?

It must be the secret base of this helicopter.

If they are taking the risk of staying on the air long enough to be traced,

the helicopter's not there.

Detonate the freighter! Now!

Now!

Saint John, what's wrong? You okay? Saint John?

Just barely. - What does that mean?

That we're luckier than hell.

Someone hit the trigger just as I cut the wire.

That was close. - You're damn right it was.

That's it, I'm getting out.

The next thing I pull the plug on is going to be the Company.

You mean it?

Watch me.

Malduke.

The satellite has the freighter in view.

What are you talking about? You detonated the freighter already.

They must have disarmed the trigger.

Prepare our team for departure.

We have one more move to play.

Lady to base. Lady to base.

Base here, Saint John. - Mission accomplished, Jason.

I've raised the authorities on Wake Island.

They're on their way.

Well done, gentlemen.

I'll pass the word upstairs. - Lady out.

Good morning, my friends.

Yes, we tracked your transmission.

Please, sleep again.

You won't be waiting much longer.

Not in this world, I can assure you.

Leave me. All of you. Make your escape now.

You are remaining, Malduke?

I have no desire to live in a world that is contaminated.

Go.

We have excellent seats for the final act.

My men have rigged a network of lasers up there.

When your Saint John Hawke returns

and breaks the beam,

there will be a very large explosion.

A mountain will bury us for eternity.

Fine gravestone, don't you think?

Which of you is Hawke?

I'm Hawke.

Ah, yes.

You were a formidable opponent.

But now, all I wish is an appropriate finale.

For all of us.

Get rid of those guns, Mr. Hawke.

You bore me.

We ran a thermal scan and only picked up two life forms in the inside.

Malduke blended in with the equipment.

Lucky you two didn't bring Airwolf in here or we'd be history.

Luck had nothing to do with that.

When Malduke walked in, I switched on the radio transmitter.

I never got a chance to tell you before they gagged us.

You were our on-the-air entertainment all the way in here.

Well, that's the end of Malduke.

Amen to that.

I wouldn't count on that, my friends.