Part III

Murdock was aching in more places than he'd known he had, but he just kept repeating to himself over and over that this was for Mother Baracus. These guys didn't have any right to spoil her Mother's Day – or any other day for that matter. Hopefully, they'd just keep going under the misconception that he was B.A. and everything would eventually work out. He knew the guys would eventually find him. He hoped sooner than later, but also knew they'd go take care of Mother Baracus first.

They'd regagged him shortly after the phone call. He really didn't care for that at all, but at the same time, it did keep him from doing a lot of nervous talking that might have given him away. And he probably would have been doing a lot of talking if he'd been able to. It really bothered him that Mother Baracus had to have listened to what they were doing. They should be ashamed for upsetting such a nice woman - although he knew they weren't and never would be. Which is why he really wished he could punch them. If they didn't have the common courtesy to be ashamed, they should at least be bruised.

Where they'd left him lying on the floor was very uncomfortable, but things soon got worse. Murdock decided he really needed to remember that in the future. No matter how crappy things were, they could still get worse. He wondered if he could get that on a t-shirt as the men forced his knees to bend until his calves and thighs met, then stuffed him into a seabag. It was one of those green heavy canvas affairs and it smelled musty. When they closed him up inside of it, it was pitch black and hard to breathe in there to boot. After that, all he got were sensations to go by to figure out what was going on.

Lifted. Set down in some vehicle. Driving. Parking. Noises. Very familiar noises, so it was an airport. Lifted again and settled down on what must have been some sort of flatbed cart. Wheeled for a long distance with lots of jolts and bumps. Lifting again, this time being passed up. Since they were at an airport, Murdock guess he was being loaded onto a plane.

"Must be a private plane. I'm too big to be considered carry-on luggage by the commercial flyers. Okay. Doors are being locked. Engines starting. Twin engine prop."

He'd held onto a slim hope that they'd let him out of the bag once the plane was locked down. Or at least open the top of the bag to let some air in, but no such luck. He tried to take his mind off of it all by guessing what sort of engines this bird had, but that didn't hold his interest for very long.

It was, oddly enough, a muscle pain that made him get a slight case of the giggles. Oh sure, he was cramped up and uncomfortable, but what if he actually had been B.A.? No way would they have been able to shove that muscular frame into this stupid sack. Not without busting every seam out of it, they wouldn't. But that distraction didn't last long either.

His body heat being held into the small space was making the air humid as well as stuffy. He felt too warm as well. The plane was in the process of take-off when the heat, stuffiness and his pains all combined and Murdock passed out.

On the tarmac of that same airport, Hannibal idly watched a small private plane build up speed and lift off while the commercial jet he was seated on waited for clearance. He had no idea as he watched it disappear into the clouds that it was carrying his missing man. Then the jet began to taxi down the runway itself - which meant he and Face had their hands full trying to keep a white-knuckled B.A. calm for the sake of everyone onboard.

Face found himself wishing that he had a tape recorder with him so that he could've made a record of everything B.A. was complaining about. He would have have loved to watch Murdock's face while he listened to the continuous string of comments.

"Who's flying this crate? Murdock could do better than him in his sleep. This that fool's first time as a pilot? Murdock crashes smoother than that fool up there is flying this."

Yes, Face figured all of that indirect praise would have brought a tear to his buddy's eyes. Which took him straight back to worrying about Murdock. He really hoped the men were just making a lot of noise to try and scare Mrs. Baracus instead of giving Murdock such a brutal beating. He had a nasty feeling that the beating was the real thing though, which made him wish the plane could go faster. Oh well. At least B.A.'s deathgrip was on the armrests and not his arm. That would have been like a tourniquet. Only tighter.

All three of them breathed easier when the plane finally landed and taxied to the gate for them to unload. Hannibal had the same feeling of relief that he'd felt the first time they'd all met Mrs. Baracus. To be precise, he felt the same when the plane came to a full stop as he had immediately after B.A. had successfully disarmed the bomb in the basement. B.A. was grumbling all the way out.

"They call that a landing? Murdock's made less bumpy landings without a runway."

Fortunately, Face had already made arrangements for a rental car, so they were out of the airport quickly and on their way to the building where Mrs. Baracus lived. They were all rather pleased to notice that the building was in much better repair than when they'd last seen it, but that reminded them all of Murdock again. It had been the movies Murdock had taken that had helped get rid of the men trying to drive the tenants out of the building.

Upstairs in her apartment, Mrs. Baracus was, of course, very happy to see her son, but terribly worried about what might be happening to her 'other baby'. B.A. growled and grumbled some after she called Murdock that, but his mother just shook her finger at him.

"Bosco - quit your sulking and start coming up with one of your plans to get him back before they hurt him any more."

Mrs. Baracus was still under the mistaken impression (gotten from her son) that her Bosco was the leader of the A-Team. While Hannibal needled B.A. about that, he had no intentions of setting the record straight. Every boy liked his mother to be proud of him, after all. Besides, their 'leader' could handle the current problem - which was getting Mrs. Baracus to calm down.

"Mother... please. Sit down. You gonna wear yourself out."

"Bosco, how do you expect me to relax when that poor baby is in danger? That boy is so special."

"Yeah... he's 'special' alright."

His mother walked over to him and gave him a light swat for that.

"Now don't you be mean. Or jealous. Just because I love you doesn't mean that I can't love him too. You know very well what I meant by special. He wouldn't hurt a fly - well, not unless he found out that fly was bullying other flies."

B.A. backed down immediately.

"I know, momma - I know. You're right and I'm sorry. I get snappy whenever I'm worried."

Mrs. Baracus laughed at that and gave her son a kiss.

"Tell me something about you that I don't already know. Oh I wanted to see you all so bad for Mother's Day, but not like this. Hannibal? Face? Come on over. I've got sandwiches made and waiting for you boys. Airline food's not fit to feed a dog."