Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from either the A-Team or CSI: Miami. I am making absolutely no money whatsoever from this, only enjoyment.
A/N: Well done for all of you brave enough to even get this far. I'm not sure quite what sparked this particular idea, but it just kept niggling at me until I had to write it down. I've always loved the A-Team, ever since I was four years old. Watching it with my dad was a family ritual and no Saturday afternoon was complete with Hannibal and the gang. And I love CSI: Miami, more than the other CSIs, for the sheer silliness of some of the plots, and the locations, and basically everything. (Especially Horatio - don't know why, but I just love the man). So, combining the two was an obvious move for me.
In order to do this with any attempt at reality, certain things had to be changed. So, in order for the A-Team not to be all incredibly old, they were in the Gulf War, not Vietnam. Everything stays the same, just they were convicted of robbing the Iraqi National Bank in Baghdad, not the Bank of Hanoi. That's the only real change in their story. For Miami, no change in the timeline, just that this happens mid Season 4, before Marisol becomes a part of Horatio's life.
So, now that's all explained, I hope you enjoy the tale. It will hopefully be funny, as all good A-Team adventures are, and even better, make sense, as all good cop stories should. Please review - I'd love to know if there's anyone out there enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. Or if you all hate it, although obviously I'd prefer the former!
Odd. That was the word for this, Horatio knew. Very, very odd. He knew Mala Noche had been causing problems in Little Havana, knew that they had been forcing people to co-operate, but due to budget restrictions, all he had been able to do was order a few more patrols through the area. Technically, there was no crime scene to investigate, no crimes had been committed and there was nothing he could do. That hadn't stopped his interest, not knowing that the same gang behind this trouble was the one that wanted him dead. Still…he paused as he considered the mess in front of him. Odd was definitely the word.
Three members of Mala Noche, easily identifiable by their distinctive pitchfork tattoos, were sitting on chairs, hands bound behind their backs, legs tied to the chair legs. Each had been gagged with some clothing, ripped into strips. All three were also wearing large dunces caps, rolled up out of newspaper, with a large 'D' printed on them in black ink. Frank had snorted with laughter when he had seen the tableau, and Horatio was tempted to do the same.
Instead, he slid the gag out of the closest one's mouth. "Well, gentlemen, this is unusual."
"Listen, pig, untie me right now! I am gonna kill them!" The gang member glared around, and got nods of agreement from his companions. "They dare to humiliate the Mala Noche! Huh, Caine, your end will be quick compared to what I will do to them."
"Keep up with that attitude, and I may just leave you here." Horatio studied the knots that bound the three men to their chairs. Intricately tied, and identical. Military precision? But what were the military doing here? "Can you tell me who did this?"
"Some dudes who think they're real clever." He curled his lip in derision. "They gonna learn what clever is!"
Horatio, quietly and without warning, pulled the gag back into place, leaving the man to splutter with indignation. He moved to the next man and moved his gag. "Are you going to be more helpful?"
This one was younger, his eyes wide in his face. "Um, there were four of them. Three white guys and this huge black dude, who had all this jewellery and stuff." He shivered slightly at the memory. "One of the white guys was definitely mad. He kept singing in odd languages, and talking to this invisible dog."
An invisible dog? Horatio arched an eyebrow and looked around. This certainly looked like the work of madmen. Or very, very clever men who knew how to keep one step ahead. "Anything else? What about the other two?"
"One was this old guy who seemed to be in charge. Kept puffing on a cigar and laughing. The other one was younger, kinda good looking. He called the older guy 'Hannibal'." The young man tried to shrug, but was prevented by the ropes that held his arms in place.
"Did they say why they did this?"
"Said it was punishment, and that we should learn to stay out of Little Havana. Our brothers will not like this." The young one's eyes were burning with anger. "They said we should move away, that no one wants us here."
"They were right about that, at least," Horatio murmured quietly. He looked around, frowning. This sounded like some sort of private army. Based in Little Havana? This looked like getting odder before it became any clearer. "Thank you gentlemen," he said, walking out.
"Hey, you can't leave us here!" Horatio smiled grimly, and walked away.
"What do you think H?" Eric hovered outside the warehouse, a smile lighting his eyes. Tripp looked as though he was still choking back laughter.
"It sounds as though we have a small, private group acting on behalf of the residents of Little Havana. They appear to have been hired to deal with Mala Noche." He squinted in the sun, and shook his head. "Four of them, and apparently one of them is a lunatic."
"You're kidding?"
"Well, unless you can find any evidence in there of a dog," Horatio added, a small smile on his lips. "It would appear he has an invisible dog that goes everywhere with him. If you can prove there was a dog, then, no, he's not mad." Eric looked disbelieving but Frank laughed.
"You see all sorts in this job, huh?"
"It would appear so." He looked back into the warehouse. "Let's get these three downtown, while you and I take a little drive down to Little Havana. Eric, I'll leave the scene to you."
Horatio drove them to Little Havana, parking just off Calle Ocho. A small explosion filled the air, and the two men slipped out of the car, weapons drawn. Slowly, they made their way through the strangely deserted streets, towards the smoke that billowed in the still air. More shots were fired, and several other explosions went off. Horatio exchanged worried looks with Frank. What the hell was going on? It sounded like a small war was being fought on the streets of Miami. While Frank called urgently for back up, Horatio made his way silently around another corner, and found the war zone.
Several cars had been overturned, and men were using them as barricades, firing up into one of the buildings, where someone was intermittently returned fire. One of the men from behind the car was creeping towards the building, when someone lobbed a small grenade at him. Horatio almost called out a warning, before remembering to stay hidden. The grenade went off with a loud bang, but covered the man in sticky pink goo, rather than hurting him. Horatio watched in bemusement as two men crept out on a balcony, behind the barricade of cars and proceeded to tip something over the hiding men. They leapt up, yelling in shock and were sent scuttling for cover again by a long burst of gunfire.
"Throw your guns down!" A strong, authoritative voice called out from the cover of one of the buildings. "Now, and no one else gets hurt!"
Horatio waited with baited breath, when to his amazement, a small arsenal of weapons was thrown from behind the cars, followed by ten men with their hands on their heads. He choked back a grin when he saw that at least two of them were covered in the pink liquid that had filled the grenades, while another five were caked in some sort of foam. Four men emerged from various buildings, each carrying an AK-47 assault rifle, trained on the ten defeated men.
They matched the descriptions given by the young gang member, vague though they had been. One was a tall, extremely broad black man, with black hair shaved into a Mohawk and a wealth of gold around his neck. Another, dressed in jeans, a bomber jacket and a baseball cap would give a little skip every now and then – the madman, Horatio assumed. Another was dressed immaculately in a white linen suit, every line sharply pressed. Blond hair and blue eyes complimented the bright smile that looked incongruous above the steady gun. The leader was obvious. Greying hair belied the energy that came from him, and, as predicted, a cigar was perched in one corner of his mouth.
"I think we made our point, don't you Face?" It was the leader who spoke first, addressing the handsome young man. "Do you think they need another lesson?"
"I don't know Hannibal, they still look kinda angry." It sounded scripted, almost, as though they had done this sort of thing many times before. "BA?"
"These fools don't know when to quit," the black man growled, and the prisoner nearest him flinched back a little.
"Now, BA, let's not be too hasty. I think we should give them another chance. Into the building, now." Hannibal gestured with his gun, and the prisoners shuffled into the indicated building, defeated. Horatio moved up the street, wondering briefly where the hell back up could be, and watched as the ten prisoners were efficiently tied up in the same manner as the three he had seen earlier, complete with dunces caps. Hannibal looked around, a wide smile on his face. "I love it when a plan comes together. BA, take the guns, and get the van. Let's get out of here before the cops get here."
"First sensible thing you've said all day," Face muttered.
Horatio, still hidden in the shadows, held his breath as BA walked past, carrying all four rifles. As he heard the other three move into the street, he crept silently up behind them. The only one who hadn't spoken cocked his head, as though listening to something. "Hannibal, Billy thinks he can hear something. I think he's caught a scent of someone."
"Don't let BA catch you talking to Billy again," Face warned.
Hannibal seemed to take the warning a little more seriously. "Murdoch, are you sure?"
Horatio, deciding that he couldn't wait any longer for back up, stepped out into the sunshine and kept his gun trained on the leader, Hannibal, the most obviously dangerous of the three. "Gentlemen," he said quietly.
They spun to face him, without a trace of surprise on their faces. "And you are?"
"I am with the Crime Lab, gentlemen. I've already seen your little message to the Noches over by the docks."
"What's your name, pal?" Hannibal's voice was calm, and Horatio noticed he was pulling on a pair of black leather gloves.
"Horatio Caine. What's yours?" If they wanted to be polite, he was willing to talk and delay them, hopefully until back up arrived. Where the hell had Tripp got to?
"Oh, you don't want to know about us," Face said, a charming, open smile on his face. "We're not very interesting."
"You are to me." The wail of sirens not to far away made Horatio smile. "Now, I know you're Hannibal, you're Face and you're Murdoch. And the man who went to get the van is BA, but that does not tell me a great deal about who you really are."
"Very boring people," Face assured him hurriedly.
"I'm not boring," Murdoch chimed in. "I'm mentally unstable. Mentally unstable people are always interesting." He smiled brightly at Horatio. "Do you like my dog?"
With a straight face, Horatio nodded. "Billy's a good looking dog, you must be proud of him." Hannibal and Face exchanged wary looks.
"You know about Billy?"
"I do." He heard a car screech up behind him and chanced a glance over his shoulder. Uniformed officers leapt out, guns at the ready, accompanied by a worried look Frank Tripp. "Gentlemen, I would be very grateful if you would make this easy and come down to the station with me. I have some questions I need answered."
"Can Billy come too?" Murdoch asked anxiously.
"Sure," Horatio agreed easily. "Frank, make sure Animal Control knows about the dog we're bringing in."
"What dog?"
"Oh, we don't need Animal Control! Colonel, you won't let him take Billy, will you?"
Colonel, Horatio noted. So definitely military then. "No, Captain, I won't let them take Billy." Hannibal looked around. "We could leave Billy here, I'm sure he'll be just fine. We'll collect him before we leave Miami."
"What dog?" Tripp asked again.
"Frank, there's a fourth man nearby, can you send a couple of uniforms around to pick him up as well?"
"Tall, black guy, lot of jewellery?" Horatio nodded, and Tripp allowed himself a brief grin. It wasn't often he was one step in front of the CSI. "Picked him up two blocks away, loading AKs into a van."
"And there are ten members of Mala Noche tied up in that building over there."
"Patrol can bring them in. Now, H, what dog?" Horatio only smiled and shook his head.
