Every Thought Captive
Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.
Chapter 1 Captured
Murdock glanced over to the filing cabinet. Amy's wavy dark brown hair hid her face as she checked the bottom drawer. Looking back down at the file spread before him, a photo and document laid out on the cream background of the folder, he focused the mini-camera.
Click
Scooping the two items and the other receipts and photos back into the manila envelope, he reached the cabinet in three strides.
"Better hurry, chica. Don' know how long we got 'fore Tannini realizes where we went to 'n' sends his fun time gorillas t' find us," he whispered. He thrust the file into her hands and took the one she offered him.
Setting the mini-camera on the desk, he flicked through the folder and found the reason Amy had selected this one out of the several files in the cabinet. Whistling under his breath at the discovery, he picked up the camera and began shooting.
Click
He shuffled the pages.
Click
"I think that's it," Amy muttered, appearing at his elbow. "This should be enough for Hannibal to use."
The walkie talkie in Murdock's pocket crackled to life. "Murdock, you there?"
He snapped one last photo and raised the walkie talkie to his ear. "Yeah, Faceman. Whatcha got?"
"Better put all the files back and get out of there. Six Tannini goons are headed your way and they don't look happy."
"Gotcha. We're all done." He watched as Amy put away the file and arranged everything on the desk back to the way it was. "'N' we're outta here. Meetcha on ground level, muchacho. Out." He tucked the walkie talkie and the camera in the pockets of his janitor uniform and took Amy's elbow, escorting her to the office door.
Opening the door a crack, he peered up and down the hallway before nodding to her and leaving the office. Once out, he gestured for her to follow.
She locked and closed the door behind her and scurried to catch up. The janitor cleaning cart they had used to disguise their actions stood outside another office door further down the hallway. He was halfway to the elevator when they both heard the sound of the car rising in the shaft.
"Stairs?" Amy asked, her eyes wide and afraid.
"Stairs." Murdock agreed as he took her hand and ran with her the remaining steps to the door. Opening it, he muttered, "Ladies first," and gave an exaggerated bow as she passed through. The elevator down the hall let out a ding and slid open with a series of squeaks and clicks. He quietly closed the stairway door behind them.
"Quick, sweetie, head downstairs." He fumbled in his pocket and placed the mini-camera in her palm. His anxious eyes met hers in a silent plea for her to obey without question. "Go!"
Slipping the camera into the pocket of her work dress, she took two steps and turned. "What'll you be doing?"
He gave her a lopsided grin and brandished his gun in answer to her question. "Now, go! I'll meetcha on the first floor." Sighing with relief as he heard her steps retreating down the stairs, he listened with his ear to the door.
So far Tannini's goons were still checking on the security of their boss's office from the sounds of their muffled voices. They had not yet figured out whether there had been intruders. Murdock decided a careful soundless retreat down the stairway was a much better solution than a confrontation with six musclebound bodyguards with no necks and plenty of firepower at their disposal.
As quietly as he could, he backed down the steps, watching the door as he did. He turned the corner and began to move quicker. One flight, two flights, still a long ways from the first floor.
Elevator'd be nice 'bout now.
And then he rounded the corner. Amy hung limp between two men, black knit masks covering their faces. One of them pressed a gun in her ribs more to make him aware that her life depended upon his actions than to stop her from struggling if she should regain consciousness. From the way she drooped, her weight completely supported by them, he realized she wouldn't be aware of anything for several minutes at least.
Two more masked men drew their guns as he stopped in his tracks. Instinctively he raised his gun and backed up. He clutched the grip with both hands and slowly pointed it from one assailant to the next. His alert brown eyes flashed over the scene in front of him, trying but failing to see an easy way of escape for both of them.
"I'll take that, Captain Murdock," one of them insisted and held out his hand.
He glanced at Amy, a fast once-over to make sure she wasn't injured and was still breathing, and reluctantly gave up his weapon. Straightening himself to full height, he raised his hands in surrender.
How'd he know my name 'n' rank? These ain' Tannini's boys. Who are they then?
One of the men gestured for him to open the door to the level. "Hands behind your neck. Let's go." Murdock obeyed the man's command, lacing his fingers together. He felt the man clutch a hank of his uniform and shirt collar underneath and prod him forward with the barrel of the gun against his spine. They entered the hallway, deserted at this time of the early evening.
"Move it." He was nudged forward. One of the armed men walked ahead of the small group to press the button for the elevator. The pilot noticed a slight limp to the man's gait and stored the information in his memory for future identification.
Might pay t' know the bad guys from the . . . wait a minute, are there any good guys in this scenario?
"Whaddya want from us?" Murdock demanded. The elevator door hissed open. His captor shoved him forward hard enough for him to lose his balance and land on his hands and knees. The walkie talkie skittered across the linoleum floor and was confiscated by another of the men. The Captain saw him slip the device in his pants pocket and silently cheered.
Least Hannibal thought of everythin'. Trackin' devices on the walkie talkie 'n' camera 'case we were caught. Maybe make us easy to fin' . . . I hope.
"Stand up." The masked man growled the instruction and again gripped him by his collar.
"Careful with the material there, buddy," Murdock muttered as he staggered to his feet and again laced his fingers behind his neck. For his comment he received a bruising punch to his right kidney.
He doubled over, biting the inside of his lower lip to prevent a moan from escaping. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the button his assailant pressed.
Headed t' the roof. Means only one thing. They're gonna put us in a chopper . . . or toss us over the side o' the buildin'.
"If the only one you want's me, why don'tcha leave the li'l lady in the elevator?" He chanced a look at Amy and the two men who were holding her upright. She showed no signs of becoming conscious. He stared in her direction, trying to ascertain if they had struck her over the head or used some other means to subdue her.
Amy's a fighter. She wouldn'ta gone down without a fight. God, I hope they didn' hurt her.
"Face forward." The masked man behind him used the barrel of his gun pressed into the hollow of Murdock's cheek to turn his head away from the threesome. Anger and a feeling of helplessness welled up inside the Captain.
The elevator announced its arrival on the top floor with a ding and a series of creaks, squeaks and clicks as its doors opened. Before them, more doors led out to the rooftop and whatever the masked men had in mind for the two of them. Somehow Murdock knew their intentions were a little more than showing them what Los Angeles looked like from thirty-two stories up.
He was correct. His captor prodded him through the doors and toward a waiting chopper, its rotors already in motion.
"Stop."
Just before they would have to duck under to reach the passenger's compartment, Murdock sensed one of the four men join his captor and force his hands down behind his back. Metal cuffs tightened around his wrists.
"Let Schreiber know we got him. Tell him and his boys to get out of town as fast as they can and meet us there."
Schreiber? Where've I heard that name before? 'N' where're they takin' us?
The man who had scooped up the walkie talkie dropped it onto the rooftop surface and brought one of his feet down on it hard. Murdock groaned, not realizing he had done it aloud.
One of the assailants glanced at him and laughed, a low malicious growl. He captured that sound and put it in his memory with the limp he observed earlier and the voices he heard so far.
"Do it. Let's go." Not sure who his captor was speaking to, he took one step forward. Before he could move on, he felt a pin prick at the back of his neck.
Jerking around to see what had happened, the pilot felt his legs begin to go numb and crumple beneath him.
"Whaddya do t' me?" he slurred. It had to be a heavy dose for it to act so fast, whatever it was. He guessed Seconal or some other kind of barbiturate.
This's gonna be a mess with the other meds I take. Be lucky if I don' die from a chemical cocktail.
It became more difficult to breathe and when he tried to focus on the chopper, it blurred before his eyes. He sensed movement around him but it was rapidly becoming harder to concentrate.
Three fuzzy figures, one being dragged between the other two, briefly loomed in front of him before crossing to the waiting aircraft. As his knees completely gave out and he could no longer keep his eyes open, he felt both arms being gripped and his body lifted slightly. The toes of his tennis shoes scraped the gravel of the roof as his assailants hauled his semi-conscious frame to the chopper and shoved him onto the floor.
The quickening whoosh-whoosh of the main rotor kept time with the emerging throb in his head as the bird lifted from the building and he fell into a deep sleep.