Chapter One: Arjuna Wijaya

As time in Jakarta ticked over into August 18, 1988, Amy Allen found herself alone, sitting on the edge of a man made pool, and staring at his face again. It was beautiful, carved and perfect, atop a slim, powerful torso, hair swept back by the motion of his flight. It seemed to her that he was most lovely at night, lit by a few spots and streetlights, oblique and absent from solid reality, the inhabitor of a dreamscape that was crowded with spattered fireworks and knots of celebration. She considered how he looked like he was about to spring into motion: Arjuna, the deadly archer, accompanied by his trusted companion Krishna, mounted on their chariot and rushing headlong into another battle for the side of good. It was her favourite fountain because he was atop it.

"I got a front page, again," she whispered to him. "You'd love it. All about private businessmen and organized crime investing in a fundamentalist terrorist group. Hard stuff. I'm surprised I didn't find you at the bottom of it somewhere, selling real estate to Saleh himself. Except you're dead, of course." She stood up and hugged herself. "I wish you were here." Any of them, to be honest. A sure hand to help her feel safer. Her phone had rung late last night five times, with no one on the other end. Each time it did, the picture she held tightly in her mind got stronger, a vision of him arriving on her doorstep, smile wide and white, eyes flashing, mouth saying all the things she imagined him saying, hand outstretched to whisk her away. She swallowed that thought. She was tough enough to handle herself. She didn't need a Prince Charming. Or want one. Except… the longer she was here, the deeper she got, the lonelier she felt, the more she couldn't stop thinking of… The more she chastised herself for foolishness.

A small knot of people pushed past her, laughing and talking among themselves in a mixture of Indonesian and American accents. A tall, slim man brushed her arm and steadied her quickly as she stumbled a little. "Sorry," he muttered, not looking at her, and kept walking. That profile, that voice sounded like… Disconcerted, she peered after him, trying to see him in the small crowd, trying to see if it really was him. But he was gone, the people were rounding the corner ahead. It couldn't have been him. He was dead, haunting her like a ghost, and she knew it. Seeing his face everywhere was only going to drive her mad. She turned back to Arjuna and Krishna and sighed. What was with this weird melancholy tonight? Some belated fireworks exploded across the city's neon skyline, splattering the statue's face with red. She looked away.

"Hey Amy!" Richard's cry pulled her away from Arjuna's cold features and back into the crowds of Jakarta at midnight on Indonesian National Day. The pavement was warm under her bare feet – her strappy blue heels dangled from her left hand as her right trailed into the water at the base of the statue. Richard Ramelan was approaching with Atin and Chokro Setiawan. They cheered and waved tipsily when they spotted her and she had to smile.

"I thought I'd find you here by this thing," Richard said, grinning. He was a tall, good looking Indonesian, an Eton educated businessman she had met while researching her last story. She had been attracted to him from the first time they met. He was charming, wealthy, and had worked concertedly to get her to agree to go to dinner with him. They had spent a good many evenings together since. A few weeks ago they'd gone to dinner and she'd let him stay for breakfast – and a few times since then. She liked him a lot. She thought maybe she might love him, given enough time. She knew that she couldn't feel that way for him right now - but he was nice to have around. She smiled at him and allowed him to kiss her soundly with warm, wet lips and a lingering embrace.

"Hi Amy!" Atin, a copy writer whose desk butted into Amy's in the newsroom, grinned at her happily, her arm firmly twined through her husband's. "Look who we found! Richard is here too, back from his business trip!" Amy felt an unexpected twinge at the sight of them, but hugged Atin in greeting, and squeaked when Chokro, her police detective husband, who was also Amy's main police contact, wrapped his arms around both of them, singing loudly. Atin swatted him away, laughing. "Don't mind my oaf of a husband. A bunch of us are going on to the Simba Club, Amy, and you are coming along with us! You must celebrate our national day, and your front page feature!"

"Yes, come on, Amy. Don't spend this evening unhappy and moping," Richard said in her ear, his breath warm on her neck. "I came back from my trip early to see you." She swallowed and glanced back up at Arjuna's face, calm and distant.

"I think you are in love with a statue!" Atin giggled, prodding her friend's arm playfully. "Come on, it's not like he's going to come to life again and sweep you away!"

Amy swallowed again and managed a smile. "No, no I guess not. It's just a silly statue I like."

Richard grabbed her elbow and the group began to move forward, away from the statue, propelling her on. "Well, leave your lover here and come and party with us," he said, ending with a cheer, echoed by their companions. "Madam Front Page! Queen of Investigation!"

Amy didn't look back, and worked on forgetting the sensations awakened by the fleeting touch of the American stranger.

The Simba Club was crowded, unusually so, and the neon lighting scheme rippled across the walls in time to the pounding beat of the party music. Amy sipped her drink and hung back, by the bar, avoiding the crush of the dance floor. The Simba attracted a heavy western crowd, and most of the conversation here was in accented English.

"I'm telling you Jerry," one man to her left was shouting over the crowd in a broad Australian accent. "This fella says it's a sure thing. A flawless investment in the Hollywood scene. Exactly what we need. He's this producer, see, and he's making this monster movie… Another round, Jerry?" Amy craned her neck to see the speaker but he was moving away toward the other end of the bar. His companion, Jerry, was a stocky man with greying hair and bushy eyebrows, looking slightly the worse for wear with a disheveled shirt and crooked tie, and a tired expression. Amy edged over to him, turning her face away from Richard, who was staring at her from the edge of the dancefloor.

"Excuse me," she said loudly, tapping Jerry on the shoulder. He turned, his expression brightening when he took in the lovely woman standing beside him.

"Yes? What can I do for you?" he asked, moving aside to make room for her in the crowd. He also spoke in a broad Australian accent.

"I couldn't help overhearing your friend mentioning someone looking for investment in a monster movie in Hollywood?"

Jerry raised his eyebrows. "Oh yeah? Looking for a `sure thing', darl? I wouldn't go for this deal then. I work in investments, stocks, other people's money, and I wouldn't put my own near this galah, let alone anyone else's." He sounded dubious and amused. "But why is a pretty girl like you asking about that sort of thing?"

"I'm a reporter, a foreign correspondent from LA. The story sounds familiar, that's all. Like something I've covered in the past," she lied, hating herself for the tight, small, edge of desperation in her chest.

Jerry grunted. "Probably a fraud case then", he replied, and laughed. "If you feel like investing in something, here's my card. Call me for a better bet than this flop. Here. Allied Asia Investment. Been working there for a few years."

Amy smiled at him and took the business card. "What's this phoney's name then? Not… Peck? Or Smith?"

Jerry shook his head emphatically. Amy felt herself come down, the desperation turn to disgust. Why did she keep doing this? Tawnia had sent her word, and she had grieved and moved on. She knew that one day it would end like that. Oh, there were a few uncertain rumours that she could track down, but as soon as one surfaced, it disappeared, replaced by another report confirming their deaths. She'd even tried to find Murdock, but he'd vanished, discharged and gone. She'd admitted defeat. But lately… Maybe it was just delayed grief. Or a hangover. Or a defence against the real world, against Richard. She should go and dance with Richard and start fresh again. If she looked deeper, she'd see it wasn't anything real, this obsession, just a memory to cling to, and stay up at night with sometimes. Just some unfinished business. She smiled brightly at Jerry.

"Well, thanks anyway. Here's your friend coming back with your drinks. And I should find my friends and their drinks, I think."

Jerry returned her smile with a nod. "Hey, no problem, Miss…"

"Allen. Amy Allen. Nice to meet you."

Jerry's companion pushed toward them and handed Jerry his drink. "Jerry, there's someone here you should probably… Oh, company," he remarked, giving Amy an appreciative glance and grin. She enjoyed the appraisal, she had to admit. It reminded her she was still alive. Jerry turned to his friend.

"This is Miss Amy Allen, reporter for the LA Times, "Jerry said, gesturing to Amy, with a suddenly wide smile. "Hey, Hal, what's the name of that fella, the one looking for movie investors?"

Hal frowned for a moment, and Amy prepared to step away from them.

"Uh… Brenner. Alvin Brenner. Yeah, that's it."

Amy froze and stared at the two men. After a moment, Jerry handed Hal his drink and reached out to take her arm. "Miss Allen, are you okay?"

She shook herself mentally and blinked at him. "Brenner? Are you sure? Tall, good-looking guy?" She didn't feel like she could talk loudly enough to be heard over the music. Hal nodded.

"Yeah, if you like that sort of thing. He's looking for money to make some monster movie. You know, the old kind with some guy in a latex mask terrorizing teens." He shrugged. "Reckon he's gone now anyway. Said he was flying back to Hollywood this morning."

Amy suddenly couldn't breathe, and pushed out of Jerry's grasp. "Thank you, Jerry, Hal, I need to go now." She pushed away from them, through the crowd, feeling something spinning loose inside her. She reached Atin and Chokro. Chokro looked up enquiringly, then frowned.

"Amy? You're crying! What's wrong? What's happened?"

Amy, who was unaware and mortified that the tears had managed to overflow in public, shook her head. "No, I'm fine. I just… got a shock. I'm going home." All the way home, she added mentally, calculating how soon she could catch a flight back to LA. Atin's brow creased deeply and she shook her head.

"No, we will go with you. Make sure you are okay." Beside her, Chokro nodded intently. Amy relented. She wouldn't be able to shake them if they had decided to accompany her, and she should probably have the company anyway. She nodded.

"Who's leaving? Amy, sweetheart, what happened?" came Richard's voice beside them. He reached for Amy's arm and looked at her closely.

"We're seeing Amy home," Chokro said, handing Atin her handbag and reaching out to squeeze Amy's shoulder kindly.

"I'll go with her," Richard said quickly. "Enjoy the party. Stay."

Atin looked to Amy, who shrugged, acquiescent to nearly anything that would get her out of this club and into the air where she could clear her head, grateful for Richard's company.

Chokro looked like he was about to say something, but stayed silent.

"Come on then," Amy said, and tugged Richard toward the door and out into the night. The air was warm and slightly humid, and smelled, as always, of car exhaust and old food. Not all that different to LA, Amy guessed. She'd have to call the paper, give them her excuses, say anything at all to get away. To find out if… Face was alive? To try to find Murdock, yet again? If anyone could somehow survive a firing squad, it'd be Face, Hannibal and BA Baracus, she thought with a hope she hadn't felt since she'd hit the denial stage of her grief last year.

"Now", Richard said, pulling her out of her thoughts for the second time that night. "What is wrong?" He slipped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her onto the pavement and along the sidewalk, past darkened buildings and still lit neon signs. The street was quiet once they left the muffled beat of the clubs and restaurants a block behind them.

"Nothing… I just… Just thinking about the story. You remember I told you last week I'm going back over the Singapore incident again. Looking for more background." She shot him a dazzling if unconvincing smile. "You distracted me from that lead, as I recall."

"I thought you told me you dropped that angle. For good." His voice was flat and unimpressed. Given his involvement in that particular story, Amy couldn't blame him for feeling that way. That was why she hadn't told him she'd begun looking into it again last week.

"It's just a thought, that's all. Something to follow up on my story about the Saleh donations and the White Snakes."

He looked at her with narrowed eyes. "I don't believe you. Tell me the truth, Madam Reporter." He raised his eyebrows at her in mock anger. She sighed.

"You're right. I just… Heard a name I haven't heard in a while. Someone I thought was gone for good."

"Ah," Richard replied. "Your American boyfriend."

"Huh?" Amy was at a loss. Her hand went to her purse and closed over the business card there. She'd be able to start tomorrow, call Jerry, see if he knew how to contact… Alvin Brenner. Who could be someone completely different, she reminded herself brutally. She looked up at Richard. "I don't have an American boyfriend."

"The one you left behind, this Peck man," he went on. "Or perhaps another man in this A-Team you always talk about."

She shook her head. "We were never… involved."

Richard looked at her pointedly. "But?"

Amy shrugged, embarrassed. "Well, it's one of the reasons I pushed for this correspondent position. And I can't believe I'm telling you this, by the way. This doesn't go anywhere, okay?"

Richard nodded. Who would he tell?

"Face and I, well, we… had a thing. A fling. Secretly, I guess. I hope." She sighed. "It was complicated, you know? I guess we actually did like each other. At least…"

"You loved him?" Richard supplied, shifting his arm to take her hand. She nodded.

"Liked him… It was out of character. He was like no one I'd go for normally. Doomed to fail miserably, of course. It was just the closeness of the situations we were in all the time. Really. I told him I… might have liked him as more than… and he, well…"

"Refused you?"

"No, the opposite. He kissed me. I mean," she hastily corrected herself, "he'd kissed me before, on jobs, for cover. Nothing special. This one was different… Then he refused me. It was all downhill from there. I accused him of arrogance and shallowness, he accused me of stupidity and being too emotional, and, well, it was all bad." She smiled ruefully. "I, of course, then ran into the arms of the first man I saw to show him how much I didn't care any more, and began to push for this Jakarta assignment. A few months later, I left altogether."

Richard smiled at her. "Then I should find this man and thank him for driving you here so I could meet you and walk you home tonight!" He tried to stop beneath a streetlight, probably for a kiss.

Amy shook her head and kept walking. "It wasn't just Face that made me leave. It was embarrassing, sure, but not destructive. I just couldn't stay. I wanted to. I missed them. But I got sick of just being Dakota Haines all the time. I wanted my own thing. It was always about getting here. Getting the stories."

Richard looked puzzled. "Dakota Haines?"

She smiled at him. "You'd love her, trust me." She sighed. "But then I heard from another friend that the authorities had finally caught up to them and…"

"Yes," Richard replied. "I know the rest. You've told me. Frequently. You still feel for him, although he is dead." He sounded disappointed. Amy stopped to face him. Time to come clean. "Richard, I know how you feel about me, but I can't – "

"Miss Allen! Miss Allen!" a man called from behind them. "Miss! Please, wait up!" Amy heard two sets of running feet and peered down the street to see who was coming after them. After a moment, Jerry and Hal came into view, puffing lightly, slowing to a walk when she spotted them. Jerry waved at her and smiled.

"Jerry?" she enquired as they reached her and Richard. "What's wrong?" He and Hal looked at each other and smiled again. Amy's instincts kicked her hard, and she began to back up, pulling at Richard's hand.

"Nice to see you again, but I need to get away home now," she stammered, looking around for possible escape points.

Always have an escape ready, kid, she heard Hannibal say to her, even if it's a window and you don't know what's on the other side. Every window is a possibility.

She looked frantically for a window – a taxi, or some cover – but nothing seemed useable. She took another step back, dragging Richard with her. Jerry and Hal said nothing, but took another step forward, hands in pockets. Richard looked from them to Amy.

"Amy? Who are these men? What's going on?" He sounded confused and Amy cursed. If she had to escape now, as her gut was screaming at her to do, it would be hard to drag him along if he dug in his heels now.

"Now, don't be too alarmed, Miss Allen," Jerry said to her. "There's some men who just want to talk to you about your story." He pulled a small revolver out of his pocket and gestured at her. "They're big fans of your work."

"Especially your recent story about Abdullah Ibn Saleh and the White Snakes," Hal supplied, producing an automatic pistol from his pocket and pressing the muzzle against Richard's side. "Compelling reporting, wouldn't you agree, mate?"

Richard, his eyes glued to Hal's face, nodded slowly. Amy swallowed her panic.

"Leave him out of it. The story means nothing to him. It's all on me. Let him go."

Jerry advanced on her, and she took another step back, releasing Richard's hand. The older man caught her and took her arm painfully, prodding her ribs with the revolver.

"The story means nothing, no. But you, probably. And that makes him vital to your cooperation. Or rather, your cooperation is vital to his survival."

"No!" Richard exclaimed, struggling weakly against Hal's grip. "I know nothing abut this! You must let me go."

Amy pursed her lips. My hero, she thought, then forced her mind to a state of calm and tried to think things through. Two guys, two guns, one hostage and me. No cover, and they have the physical advantage. Not much I can do right now. Maybe I can give Richard a shot of courage at some point and I'll have an ally. She cursed inwardly. It'll come to Dakota Haines again, won't it? If it comes to anything, and I'm in a position to act. Unlike right now…

"Shut up." Hal cuffed him roughly across the head and Richard ducked. "And call for help and you'll both get it."

Amy exhaled and steeled herself, trying to calm her terror. "Alright then gentlemen. Let's do this. You want to take me to talk to my adoring public, who, I have to suppose, are unhappy with my recent stories exposing them as investors in terrorism. I also have to suppose that any further investigations will also overturn whatever rock you are currently hiding under. That puts you at a disadvantage." She tried to imagine she was channeling Hannibal. Keep them talking, keep talking, maybe they'll slip, bolsters your nerves up anyway, kid. She made a show of peering up and down the street. "What, no backup?" She smiled at Jerry. "I feel mildly insulted, Jer."

He shook her roughly. "They weren't going to come at you til tomorrow, but you just strolled right on over, introduced yourself. It was like Christmas come early for Hal and me, really." He shook her again. "You're a valuable lady. You'll pay some debts for us, Miss Allen. Keep walking." He began to walk, his long strides forcing her to hurry to keep up in her heels. Hal prodded a quiet Richard ahead of him.

"Where are we going?" Amy asked, not expecting an answer. Jerry hesitated before answering, and that gave Amy some hope. They weren't prepared for this. That meant that at some point something might get sloppy.

"My offices. There'll be no one there tonight and it's a secure premises. Tomorrow we'll pay a visit to your fans."

Hal pushed Richard over the kerb onto the street and hailed a passing taxi. It began to slow. Amy groaned inwardly. Who could find a taxi after midnight when they wanted one? She had been counting on a long walk, full of mistakes she might take advantage of. The taxi stopped beside Hal and Richard. Hal pulled the back door open and pushed Richard inside, across the back seat to the corner. Rather than opening the other door and bolting, as Amy was silently willing him to do, Richard sat quiet and cowed. Jerry shoved Amy toward the open door and she went limp suddenly in his grip then began to push backwards.

"No! Help us, please!" she cried to the taxi driver, who appeared to take no notice at all. Jerry swore and spun her around, striking her hard across the face, sending stars spinning across her vision and her head smacking into the side of the taxi. In a daze, she stopped resisting and felt a firm hand push her into the taxi. Her head was splitting, and she thought she might be sick. Her ears were ringing and her vision was blurred. She shook her head. It would clear in a moment. Beside her, she heard Richard exclaim, "What? Who are they?" and a man shout outside the taxi. She turned, prepared to kick Jerry if he slid in next to her in the back seat, but he did not appear. Instead she saw him being dragged backward by tall, dark man, while Hal was doubled over a few paces away, another silver haired man bringing his knee up into the other man's face. The taxi door slammed shut and someone pounded on the roof once, and called "Go for it, get them away!" Amy gulped down some air, unaware she had stopped breathing, and wished her head would stop spinning so horribly. I must be concussed, she thought, fighting a sudden urge to throw up. A face startlingly like Murdock's grinned at her briefly from the other side of the window, then the taxi sputtered away, leaving the fight behind them in the streetlight's circle. Absolutely delirious, she thought, leaning back against the seat, feeling her head slowly start to clear.

"Where are we going? Where are you taking us?" Richard demanded of the taxi driver, stirring beside her. He reached across and took Amy's hand. "Amy, are you okay? He hit you. You're bleeding."

Amy pushed his hand away as he tried to examine her split lip. She was going to have one hell of a bruise in the morning. She licked her lip and tasted blood.

"Ouch. Damn it." She looked around. "Where are we going?" she demanded, reaching forward to slap at the taxi driver's head. "Stop the cab. Stop it now."

"Ow! Stop that!" the driver replied, warding off her hand and flinching away. She froze again, falling back into her seat. That voice… The taxi began to slow, then stop. Richard fumbled at the door handle, reaching back to grab Amy's hand again. Again, she pushed him away, her attention focused on the driver.

She felt like she'd been paralysed.

"Face?" she asked, forcing her whisper through swollen lips. She stopped breathing. Slowly, so slowly, Face turned around to face her, and grinned.

"Hiya, Amy."

She didn't reply. She began to shake her head. "Face," she said again, a statement, not a question. Face turned to Richard, who was looking horrified. He stuck out his hand, awkward over the seat back.

"Hi. Templeton Peck at your service. Also known as – "

"Alvin Brenner," Amy breathed.

"Face of the A-Team," Richard finished. His expression was unreadable. He gazed at the proffered hand like it was a snake and turned away. "Amy, come away with me now."

"You can go, Richard," Face replied genially. "I'll drive Miss Allen home."

Richard glanced across at Amy, who nodded, unable to take her eyes from Face's face. Richard glanced back at Face again, then fumbled at the door handle. He slammed the door behind him.

Amy was alone with Face. At last. Again. Unbelievably. Neither of them said anything.

Face reached over to hand her a white handkerchief. "You're bleeding," he said finally, motioning to her face. She accepted it and stared at it like she didn't know what it was. Her head was spinning again but not from the blow. She felt tears pushing at her eyes and something roiling in the pit of her stomach. She dimly heard him leave the front seat and slide in beside her.

"Here," he said softly, taking the cloth from her fingers and dabbing gently at her mouth. "Should've known you wouldn't go too quietly, huh?"

She reached up, tentatively, and touched his hand. It was warm.

"You're dead," she said slowly. He shrugged. "Well, you can't believe everything Tawnia tells you, you know." He looked abashed suddenly, and reached out to touch her cheek. She winced. "Yup," he said, peering at her jaw. "You're gonna have a helluva bruise tomorrow. You'll be able to say you won, though."

The roiling rose higher and Amy pushed his hand away, anger making her tears spill over.

"You're alive," she said. "And I thought you were dead. For two years, I thought you were dead. The others – "

"Are here too. Cleaning up your kidnappers. They'll be along."

Amy suddenly needed air, and opened the taxi door. She slid out, unsteady on her heels as she backed away from the vehicle. Face followed her out. She shook her head.

"What happened? How did you get away? What are you doing here? No, wait," she said, holding up her hand. "I don't want to hear it. I really don't. What the hell were you thinking?"

She stopped and looked around herself, and spotted a familiar profile. She looked back at Face.

"The statue? Arjuna and Krishna? Why did you bring me here?"

"The others are meeting us here," he replied, watching her carefully. "I know you like it here."

She looked at him, aghast. "You've been following me?"

He shrugged. "For the last day or so." He turned and frowned, suddenly seeming upset. "You drew a lot of attention with that story. You should be more careful, Amy. If we hadn't been following you – "

He crossed to the pool's edge and sat down, motioning her to sit beside him. She did, keeping a token distance.

"So you work for the government now?" she asked, putting two and two together. Face shook his head and smiled.

"This time. For a while, after the court martial, we didn't have a choice. But after the pardon – "

"You got pardoned?" she asked suddenly, feeling something like a smile hurting her cheek. Face nodded, and reached out to stroke her injured cheek again.

"Mhm. All signed and sealed. I'm a free man. We all are."

She didn't speak. It was easier not to speak. Amy reached over to take Face's hand and for a minute, they sat in silence. She twisted around and nodded at the statue behind them.

"I do come here. Mostly at night. Not perfectly safe, I suppose, but I don't mind. I come to see him." She pointed at Arjuna, outlined against the cityscape, bow raised and drawn, proud and dynamic. "He reminded me of someone."

"Me?" Face asked softly, sliding in very close. Amy raised her eyebrows, letting the flood of sudden intimacy do away with her sense, suddenly remembering the dance, the sensation. Then she regained control and inched backwards away from the situation.

"BA," she replied, with that cool, self-satisfied expression that he remembered so well, that grated on his nerves. "Really?" he murmured. "BA?"

"Maybe Murdock," she breathed and tried to smile at him. She winced in pain. The brittle intimacy broke apart. He pulled back.

"Sorry," he muttered, standing up and moving a few restless paces away. Amy stared hard at the concrete, her thoughts confused and her blood racing.

Alive.

"Was that you, here, tonight? Brushed past me?"

He looked at her and nodded. "I was tailing you. Saw you with that other guy. Richard."

Amy remained silent, refusing to answer his unspoken question. He nodded again and started to pace.

Amy shivered suddenly, slightly nauseated, the shock of her near kidnap and blow to the head catching up with her. Face turned and noticed and was sitting beside her instantly.

"Hey, Amy, how are you doing? The was a good knock on the head you got."

She nodded. "I'm okay. It's just… you're alive! You're all alive, and here…"

"It's good to see you again, Amy. Really good. But you need to be more careful. You might have been hurt, if we hadn't gotten here in time..."

Amy looked at him, distracted by the serious tone in his voice. He smiled his most insincerely charming smile, put an arm across her shoulders and pulled her close. She let herself lean into him, still a little shellshocked.

A car screeched to a halt at the kerb beside them and as she turned she heard Murdock call "Boy, Faceman, waste no time, hey!" Then the lanky Texan was hauling her out of Face's arms and into his for a long, warm hug and kiss. BA's chains were pressed against her face as he wrapped huge arms around her before Hannibal held her at arm's length and regarded her merrily. "You look like hell, kid. Just as well we found you again, huh?" She put her arms around his neck and pressed her uninjured cheek to his, smelling the tang of his cigars.

"I can't believe you're here, really here!" she exclaimed, allowing BA and Murdock to hug her again delightedly, before returning to stand beside Face.

"Hey, Faceman," Murdock said, looking up at the statue, poised in flight. "Do you think that feller with the bow looks a little like you?"