Disclaimer: recognizable characters still aren't mine. Drat.


They discovered that the bunks had storage chests underneath, and bracketed to the undersides of the chest's lids were—

"Face keeps askin' who that woman is, Colonel," B.A. said cheerfully as he looked over the small array of handguns and ammo squirreled away there, "but I wanna know if she has a sister."

Hannibal laughed, and the other two joined him.

He shoved his bag under the bunk with Murdock's, extracting a small cigar case from the front pocket before shutting the lid. He sat down again, turning the case over and over in his hand without opening it before stating,

"Christ. I need a smoke."

B.A. had finished inspecting the weapons and had focused his attention back to the TV screen. Without turning around, he flipped another cigar case from the shelf near him in Hannibal's direction. "Here, Colonel."

Hannibal caught it and opened the top.

"Same brand," Face observed, over his shoulder.

Looking down at the two sets of cigars in his hands, the older man gave a fond smile that Face knew wasn't for his benefit.

"It's probably not a good idea to light up down here," Hannibal rued.

Still not facing the rest of them, B.A. shrugged. "It's okay. We're used to it. An' you can feel the air exchange, right? There's fresh air bein' pumped inta here about twelve times a minute."

The other three stared at the black man's back. He remained oblivious.

"Look at this," he continued, indicating the upper left hand feed of the screen. "This camera that the Fed ripped the power cord outta? When it came back on, the angle's different."

Murdock joined him, standing so close to the screen he almost touched it.

"I think you may have something there, Sherlock," he told B.A. without an ounce of sarcasm in his voice.

Hannibal occupied himself with cutting and lighting one of the cigars from his own case and taking several tokes before focusing on the screen again.

Murdock went on. "You're right, Bosco! This is slightly off here, and right here you can see it's just a little higher than it was before—" He tried to demonstrate with his hands the angles he was seeing, but he managed to block most of the view. He gave up and faced B.A. "How did you see this, Holmes?"

"Because I got younger eyes than you, crazy!" B.A. told him loudly. "Drop the Sherlock Holmes bit—don't even think about gettin' me one a' them deerstalker hats!"

Hannibal chuckled, because he could tell the wheels in Murdock's head were turning in that direction.

"This is a different camera, Colonel," B.A. concluded. "How come the Feds didn't see it?"

Hannibal chewed the end of his cigar and looked serious. "I don't know. I installed the original camera, but I don't know where the additional feed is coming from. With the power cord on the first one yanked, you're absolutely right. It must have a different power source and be a completely different camera."

"Set up to start recording when the primary is cut?" Face asked.

"Suppose so," Hannibal answered with a shrug.

"Wait one wild darn minute!" Murdock exclaimed. "You said you installed the original camera, but you don't know anything about a backup? What does that mean? What is going on here?"

As his team's attention became riveted to him, Hannibal sighed and studied his cigar. He inhaled as if to speak, then closed his mouth again. The other three waited.

Ah, thought Face. You refuse to answer me, but if the rest of the team gets shaken by fact that you might not really have a viable plan—

"It means that Ms. Stella Cavanaugh, the kind lady who's offering us asylum, has been doing some supplementary work around the house that I wasn't aware of."

Face was able to keep a snarky, "Including this fancy bomb shelter?" from escaping his lips as the other two men stared questions at their former CO.


Even though they were still burning with curiosity—Murdock was especially wheedling—Hannibal refused to say much more about the situation, or what, exactly was going through his mind, or about Ms. Stella Cavanaugh, with the exception of:

"She's an old friend."

B.A. snorted. "Man, I can barely borrow twenty bucks from my old friends, never mind all this!"

He indicated with his hand the room around them, and left the implication of what he thought Hannibal's "friend" actually was hanging in the air.

Hannibal still didn't rise to the bait. "We're getting some rest, then I'm going up there."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Boss," Face disagreed. He was happy to see Murdock shake his head in support too. "She's right. Those agents aren't just going to drive away and not look back. They'll be back with a warrant to search the place. You know that!"

"I have to go talk to her," Hannibal growled.

"She don't look like we need ta talk to her," B.A. added, nodding toward the TV screen. She was lounging on the couch with a magazine, seemingly relaxed.

"You can't go up there."

Hannibal spun and directed a hard stare at Face. "What did you just say to me?"

Face stood up to face the older man, but didn't act intimidated. "You can't go up there, Hannibal." He deliberately didn't call him "Colonel" or "Boss" or anything else that insinuated a superior. He narrowed his eyes and pushed the envelope a little farther. "She said stay put, and she's absolutely right! What part of you is thinking?"

As Face expected, Hannibal bristled.

"Don't you ever dare to tell me—"

"You can't pull rank, Hannibal," Face interrupted forcefully. "We're in a crappy situation here—and I know she's in one too!" he said over Hannibal's attempt to interject. "But like you said, Ms. Cavanaugh seems to be handling things pretty fucking well up there. We have to let things settle down."

One reason he was so good at the roles he played was that Face could read other people. He was an expert in body language, and knew just what buttons to push to manipulate people into whatever he needed them to be. Face watched Hannibal's pupils dilate, saw minute expressions of misgivings and lament cross his face, and noted the tiny breaths and muscle trembles that rocked his torso.

B.A. and Murdock were stock-still, outsiders in the scene.

"Hannibal. Bossman," Face said earnestly, switching back to subordinate language purposefully, taking the older man's shoulders and dipping his head to peer directly into his eyes, "I promise—I promise—that if things start going south up there we'll take care of it. She's supplied us with everything we need down here; we're not going to let anything happen to her."

Now the other two murmured agreements.

After a long, tense pause, Hannibal nodded.