Disclaimer: I do not own, nor did I create, any of the A-team characters (main or support) nor do I own, nor did I create, any of the episodes. That credit is due to Stephen J. Cannell and his associates.

Abels 1,2,3,4 etc is Cannell's method for referring to the body guard agents he'd assign to watch the A-team and enforce his control

Chapter Spoiler Alert: Reveals certain plot lines from some episodes of Season 5 namely -The Say U.N.C.L.E. Affair(S5E6). Also certain elements from The Grey Team (S5E12) are referenced.

Chapter Author's Notes: Plot is all original, save the one allusion to aforementioned episodes.

Chapter Summary: Back at the Langley compound, Hannibal makes a discovery and begins to put his plan into action.

Chronicles of a Colonel: by LAGC

Chapter Two - Compounding Problems at The Compound.

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"Wow, Papa Hannibal, my Dad has never told me any of this!"

"That doesn't surprise me. It's not your Dad's way. I'm a little surprised he sanctioned this project." I told my eldest granddaughter.

"I had him over a barrel. It's my Senior Project so it's a graduation requirement. Plus I'm submitting it with my application to Yale." she replied with a quick sneaky grin.

"Ah. So it seems your plan has come together." I teased.

"And I love it." she giggled. "Now, please Papa, can we keep going?" she prodded all serious again.

"Sure, where were we? Oh yeah the Anderson case was wrapped up ...

What my men didn't know was that I was in contact with an old ally. He had promised to provide sanctuary anytime we needed it. He had a place really off the beaten trail that we could lay low in. So on the way back to Langley I mailed him a message warning him that we'd be in need of his help by the end of the month and to please get everything ready. I'd been secretly shipping him our special brand of supplies for several months.

Truly I'd hoped that I'd never have to cash in on his offer. I really wanted Stockwell to hold to his word. I wanted a clean and legal new start in life for my team, and legit pardons via Stockwell would have guaranteed that. But it had become so glaringly obvious that he never would- so time for a new plan.

While riding back to base no one mentioned our conversation. Face and Murdock kept any conversation to "the best pick up lines" and other nonsense. This just confirmed that my team distrusted Frankie. But I still felt responsible for him too. This was a planning challenge.

When we arrived back at the compound Stockwell was entrenched in the living room demanding a full debrief. I flung the briefcase containing the false documents at him and told the guys to hit the showers. Stockwell began to protest but B.A. and Murdock had already retreated. Face, stayed at my side, he never was willing to let me go toe to toe without backup. Besides he always enjoyed being insubordinate to the General and he could sense this was going to be a prime opportunity. Frankie did his usual bobbing back and forth, yet again not understanding what to do. "Frankie, hit the shower." I repeated to him. He scooted off like a jackrabbit but not before a quick glance at Stockwell. Who I swear gave a barely noticeable nod of permission.

I was alarmed. Was I being paranoid or had I been played?

"So Colonel Smith, the mission is completed I see." hissed Stockwell.

"One false file recovered, one KGB operation shut down, and one happy family reunited. So yeah Stockwell, mission complete." I reported.

"You made quite the spectacle of yourselves in the process. Inciting chaos at a retirement home, engaging FBI agents, crashing a car onto a police cruiser. Attracting so much public attention does not work well with our arrangement here, Colonel." sneered the Snake.

"You don't work well for our arrangement, Stockwell. We've jumped through your hoops, played your games. Where are our pardons!" I demanded.

Stockwell leaned forward in his chair and glared at me. Face unceremoniously plopped into the armchair and jeered, "Yeah Stockwell. Do you need help writing up the paperwork? Are you struggling with the grammar or the spelling? I'd be willing to correct and edit for you."

"That won't be required Lt. Peck. I will submit the paperwork at which time the A-team has fulfilled their quota of missions."

"And just what is that quota, Stockwell? By my count we've completed nearly a dozen missions for you. One of which involved us saving your life! I want to know the quota General." I insisted.

Stockwell merely stood up and repeated his mantra, "Everything on a need to know basis, Colonel. Now good-night." He turned his back on us and sauntered out of the house.

I could sense Face coiled like an angry rattlesnake and just as ready to lunge. I placed myself between my lieutenant and our jailer. At this point, Face beating him senseless would gain us nothing and would actually hinder our escape.

"That's right General, everything on a need to know basis." I called after him and then loud enough for only Face to hear, "and you don't need to know which base we are on."

I turned to look at Face. His eyes were still dark as a storm tossed ocean.

"Easy, Face, we just need to play a little longer. Hold it together, Kid." I warned.

Just like that Face snapped up his "everything is Jim-dandy" conman mask.

"Ok, Hannibal. What's next.?"

As he asked that my training kicked in and I recognized a shadow in the corner that didn't make sense. I with my hand I gestured a keep talking signal. Face lifted a quizzical brow but didn't miss a beat.

"I mean should we go make dinner for the team? Or take our own showers? A nice dip in the pool sounds good. Maybe BA would be willing to grill some steaks out there." Face kept up his inane babble as I moved to a position that allowed me to use a big wall mirror to see into the dining room. DAMN. I was right, we had an eavesdropper.

Frankie was huddled in a corner listening in on our post General conversation. DAMN. But this did resolve my planning challenge. One less future to worry about.

I made my way back to Face and said, "Let's go hit the showers, Lieutenant, then we'll deal with dinner." Face complied with a curious look.

Face and I went to our rooms. I put my radio going and turned on the shower full blast. Then I climbed out my window and snuck over to Face's room. His window was open and waiting for me. I joined him in his bathroom. He also had his shower going full blast into an empty stall.

"What's up, Colonel?" He was in full on "second in command" mode.

"Well it seems we have a viper in our midst." Face waited for me to continue, "Mr. Santana was listening in on our post Stockwell conversation, notepad in hand." I admitted.

"Oh." His tone revealed his lack of surprise. "That clears up how Stockwell gets intel on us despite BA's regular de-bugging sweeps."

"It also means I need to plan for only four men to escape." I blustered. Then I looked at Face and said, "I'm sorry, Kid. I've made some weak choices this last year."

"Don't worry about it, Hannibal. We have all had our moments. Besides its one year out of fifteen. Hell, even you aren't immune to the law of averages."

I smiled to show him my appreciation.

"We are out of here in two nights. And we won't be looking back. We just have to make sure Murdock isn't forced off the compound before that. Keeping him separated from us was just another way for Stockwell to leash us to this doghouse. Scum Ball knows we all go out together or not at all."

"No worries Colonel. I'll take care of that piece." Face assured me.

"I'll get BA ready. We bolt when Frankie goes on his hot date with Rhonda, whom I'm sure is his handler. Abels 1 and 2 will make a show of escorting him off the grounds."

"And Abels 3 and 4?" prodded Face?

"Oh I've got a plan for those two." I smiled chopping down on my unlit cigar.

We split ways. I then snuck into BA's suite using the same window technique. I filled in the Big Guy on the plan and his role in it. He wasn't at all surprised about Frankie's betrayal either, "Always felt something wasn't right with that Sucker." was his only comment. Then I went back to my room and took a quick shower, under the now ice cold spray.

One glance at Murdock when we gathered at the table told me that Face had filled him in. I was confident that my conman and his wingman had hatched some scheme. We all ate a chicken dinner that those two had prepared. About four hours later, their scheme became laughably evident.

We were all in the den watching the Bears football game. BA was throughly engaged and yelling at the screen. Face, as was his typical way, was half watching the game and half reading the latest issue of some business magazine. Frankie was on the couch munching popcorn and cheering on the Bears. Murdock also sat on the couch. Suddenly he started to wipe his sweaty brow and hug his stomach. He leaned forward and started to gulp air.

"Murdock, Buddy, are you okay?" asked Face dropping his magazine.

"Oh. I don't think so Facial One. I feel like I've got a thousand angry octopuses crawling up my esophagus." Murdock gurgled.

"Now what, Fool?" growled BA.

Frankie looked up from his popcorn with an alarmed expression.

"Oh oh. The octopus is escaping!" howled Murdock as he leapt up and spun dizzily. Then completed the scene by vomiting all over an appalled Mr. Santana.

I suppressed my grin and snicker, neither response was proper in this little production.

BA groaned, "What's wrong with the Crazyman?"

Face leapt to Murdock's aid. He picked up the Captain, who had collapsed against Santana'a shoulder, the only remaining clean spot on the fink.

"Ok, Buddy. Let's go get you cleaned up. I warned you not to lick your fingers after you handled the raw chicken. I told you about salmonella poisoning."

"Salmonella? But I didn't swim with any salmon- named Ella, or Fred or Pink nor Red, Facey. How'd I catch Salmon Ella's cold." babbled Murdock.

"Salmonella - food poisoning, Murdock. You're in for a few miserable days. Come on you can stay in my room." Face explained as he led our ailing Pilot down the hall.

Frankie shuddered as he extricated himself from Murdock's mess and he took off to hit his own shower.

BA maintained his angry act as he made a show of cleaning off the sofa. He shot me a quick smile and whispered, "Those two are priceless, man."

Stockwell was less than happy the next evening. He'd come to escort Murdock back to his city apartment. Murdock attempted to convinced the General that he was too sick to travel by up-chucking into a waste bucket. Then, when Stockwell continued to insist on his leaving the compound Murdock completed Act II by dry heaving until the General feared for the safety of his Italian loafers and fled Face's room.

"Captain Murdock is to leave as soon as his stomach is under control." he ordered from the safety of the hallway.

"He's not leaving until he's well, and fully rehydrated. He is running a fever and he hasn't kept any food or liquid down in the last 24 hours. I'll not send a weak compromised man out to fend for himself." I countermanded, going nose to nose with the Creep.

"Oh very well then, Capt. Murdock leaves once he's able to eat again." he begrudgingly acquiesced.

"Mr. Santana. I require your assistance in removing supplies from my car. It's gear to replace that which you men lost during your last missions." Frank scuttled after him.

Murdock shot me a quick celebratory thumbs up.