Chapter 2
Dirty Little Wars
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Slipping through the perimeter with practiced ease, the dark form paused for a moment. Crouching beneath the pillars of the guard tower as lightning illuminated the camp…
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Hannibal forced his eyes to focus through the dense down pour of rain and their own fever- induced haze. "How many can you make out Capitan?"
Murdock's quick brown eyes utilized the flashes of lightning to search the terrain again.
"I might be wrong Colonel, but I'd only lay out hymnals for five at choir practice tonight. Well, six if you count the mud-sucker twice, he does sing really loud."
Hannibal ignored Murdock's newest personality diversion as he assessed the situation. No increased guard activity. Perimeter patrols still normal. Impressive.
The Colonel grinned. Not a bad beginning, but any attempt to cross the clearing would be suicide. The guards in the tower would have an easy time picking off an intruder. "Hope he's got a plan."
The tower in question loomed an impressive 30 feet above the dank camp. Its bulky size came from the elaborate support structure of oversized telephone poles and enormous slanting cross- members. A retracted rope ladder provided the only access to the guard shack that was perched at its apex.
The guard shack itself was just that. A shack. Seemingly, the builders had exhausted all thought and energy on the construction of the base and had decided to top their creation with a tree house. The only redeeming characteristics of the rickety structure was that it supported a machine gun turret and it provided the two guards that manned it a 360 degree birds- eye- view of the camp.
Face made his way over to his teammates, offering the now brimming cup of water to the Colonel.
Smith scowled and nodded toward Murdock.
Rather than engaging in a futile argument with his commander the pilot took a quick obligatory swig then handed the much-needed liquid to the colonel.
What's going on out there?" Face tried to follow Murdock's gaze.
"Our salvation is upon us, Brother Peck." Murdock pointed to the tower.
With the next strobe of lightning the young lieutenant's eyes were drawn to the movement of a dark silhouette climbing the massive support beams.
Murdock continued to preach. "And from the depth of night a lone Sheppard has come forth to savith' our bacon. "
"Aww… Murdock," Face winced, "you're not fazing into the Reverend again are you?"
The Reverend was, without a doubt, one of Murdock's most annoying characters. Once he got the Holy a-Rollin', it was all downhill with no breaks.
The pilot smiled knowingly, "The Reverend has arrived and will be taking confessions for the rest of the evening.. And you" he waved a slender finger at the con-man continuing in a Desi Arnaz impression, "have a lot of splanin' to do."
"Lock it up Murdock," Hannibal hissed. "They're coming with BA. "
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At the sound of approaching guards the climber swung to the inside of the structure, clinging in motionless camouflage against the side of the slick wood beams.
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The three guards backed away from the fallen prisoner. Exhausted and frustrated one of the men sat back heavily onto a stack of tires. The guards that had been tasked with the questioning of Baracus were from some standpoints, more the worse for wear than the soldier in their charge.
The massively built American had landed his fair share of shots. Shaking his Mohawked head, he tried to maintain his bearings. Observing with satisfaction that the men were breathless and obviously hurting from his previous assault. They were inept and out of shape.
He smiled as he heard Face's voice "Hannibal everyone of these guys is about one burrito shy of a coronary. I say we stop trying to escape and just wait them out." BA pictured the men dropping over.. Bean burrito protruding from their mouth and he laughed aloud. It would serve them right.
The senior guard threw his bamboo cane across the small room. Cursing in his native tongue as he swiped sweat from his grimy brow. He remained seated as he yelled his insults, too spent to exert energy on a fit of greater magnitude. "You tell us the account number?" He panted the question. "No harm in telling this, yes? Save yourself pain. Angel just want his money."
The desperate guard was nearly pleading for a response from the laughing prisoner. Having failed miserably in his attempts to extract information from the men, he knew he would soon feel the repercussions.
Bound with his hands in front of him, BA balanced on his knees and clinched fists. Blinking the stinging sweat from his eyes, he waited for another opportunity to exact some revenge on his captors.
It pissed him off that some low life dirt bags like these had gotten the upper hand on the team. Hannibal had seen them through situations much tougher than this. They had defeated some of the best- trained soldiers in the world; they had escaped from a prison camp the likes of which these men could not even imagine.
His mind flashed through the memories of Danag….
"Naw, you ain't got nothing on that sucka." He pushed himself to his feet glaring insolently from one guard to the next. He made a 'come on' gesture daring them to approach again.
The men laughed at this but were unwilling to accept the invitation.
"You tough eh hombre?" The seated man bleated the question in broken English "Maybe we work on your crazy amigo again… see if he tough like you, eh?"
BA growled menacingly.
The men laughed again, but the two younger guards gave a wide berth as they moved to flank him.
"Take him back," spat a voice from the doorway. A lanky figure entered the dim circle of light. Thick dark hair slicked back from a dramatically tall forehead. The Columbian drug czar drew a breath through burning tobacco leaves. "It's obvious Manuel, your methods will not break these men." His accent was thick but his English was refined and cultured. His youthful appearance served to disguise his age of forty plus years.
The two guards looped wooden clubs through their prisoner's arms and forced him to the center of the dingy room.
Angel Nandian smiled at the man before him. "You and your friends have cost me a great deal. You … poisoned my fields…robbed my shipments……kidnapped my family… you have stolen my money." He shook his head as if he admired the capabilities of the men that had brought his lucrative heroin operation to the ground. "But, in the end, you will help me recover some of my losses. You will give me the Swiss bank codes and return the money you have taken. You will tell me where my wife is hiding and I will have my son."
At the mention of the boy BA snarled and flexed his massive arms. The marine line that bound his wrists cut deeper into the abused skin. He focused on the pain rather than allow his mind to conjure images of what could happen to the terrified woman and child should they ever be found.
Blowing out a thoughtful breath of smoke, the man spoke again."You are a soldier. Your government has trained you to resist. But my government taught me lessons as well. Like they say in your American movies...in Columbia we have ways of making you talk." He took another long drag, "I am an expert at this game Mr. Baracus."
He laughed largely at the shocked look on the prisoner's face. "Yes you see…I know who you are. You and your associates are not the only people with connections in government."
Information was just another commodity for sale in the third world country. It had not taken much effort for a man of Nadian's wealth and power to identify the four men. He knew that the men were Americans, and had of course expected they were soldiers. But the results of the fingerprint analysis had reveled an unexpected surprise.
"The A-team. " He marveled again at his good fortune.
Removing a gold lighter from the pocket of his linen slacks he relit the tip of his cigar. "Your corrupt government has obviously faked your death so you can fight with impunity their dirty little wars abroad. Now here you sit.. forsaken by those you served so valiantly." He laughed, Just like Vietnam. Yes?"
BA sneered his silent response.
"Why do you protect a country of cowards?" He shook his head smiling slyly, "Why, I wonder, why are you willing to die so America can wage this secret war against me?"
"You're a stinkin' drug dealer posin' kids an you gonna pay!" BA lunged forward dragging the guards in his wake.
A well-aimed blow behind the ear finally subdued the powerful man. Sagging between the guards, Baracus was drug out into the pelting rain.
The tall Columbian meandered to the corner of the room, nonchalantly picking a photo from the cluttered desktop.
Studying the image intently, he touched the cherry of his cigar to the corner of the picture. Evidently Sgt Baracus believes it is only he and his team that will suffer for the loss of my empire…the loss of my son… No it will take much more to satisfy my wrath.
With contempt he flicked the burning photo to the ground. The black and white surveillance photo of BA's mother melted as if she felt her son's anguish.
TBC
