Hannah: The two stories could be strung together, if you really wanted to. They are not in my mind, but feel free to combine "Michael 7" and "San Diego Diary" in yours. ;)
Also, worries have been expressed about the combination of Face, a gun, and a couple of creeps...
Face had no trouble finding the place, he only had to follow the sounds. When he walked downstairs he could see BA's back. He was just finishing tying up one of the baddies. BA turned around and stared at Face. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm helping out, any objections?"
BA didn't answer. He just looked.
"Where's Hannibal, how many are there?" Face asked on.
"Just two it seems. Hannibal's taking care of the other one," BA answered.
"What direction?" Face asked.
"You just stay here and watch him," BA pointed at the man in front of him , then jogged off.
Face understood exactly what BA was doing. BA thought that he was not safe around the other guy. BA feared that he might lose his cool and do something really drastic, like killing the bastard. Face just wasn't sure whether to like this or not. A part of him was relieved, but another part of him was angry. He didn't need to be protected. He had managed on his own even when he was a kid, he sure as hell was able to manage now.
Face clenched his jaw. He had lapsed in the morning, yes, but that was only because he had stumbled into it unprepared. Now he was prepared. Now he knew what it all was about. Now he knew what to expect. And now he knew how to not let it get to him.
"Look, pal..." the man before Face started.
"Shut up."
"I... I just thought... You and I, we could get to an agreement..."
"Just what in hell makes you think that?" Face asked incredulous, raising his eyebrows.
"You look like a guy who..."
Face interrupted the man by pressing the barrel of his gun against his forehead. "Just give me a reason," he threatened in a soft voice.
"Okay, okay," the man soothed immediately.
"Face!" Hannibal's voice announced his arrival seconds before he rounded the corner, marching a guy in front of him at gun-point.
"Hannibal..."
"What are you doing here?!" Hannibal didn't appear to be all that happy.
"Funny how everybody keeps asking me that."
"I asked you a question, Lieutenant!"
Face was about to answer when BA appeared, one kid on each arm. One was a girl of about seven, the other a boy of about four. Both looked in pretty bad shape, but at least the girl had one arm around BA's neck, holding on, and resting her head on his shoulder. The boy just sat on BA's arm, staring into the distance like he didn't care much what was happening around him; or with him.
Face knew that most probably he really didn't care.
Hannibal quickly turned around, following Face's look. "We found them in a room back there," he explained.
"Pete didn't want to let go of Murdock," Face said, instead of replying to what Hannibal had just said. He simply had no idea what else to say. Should he tell Hannibal that he should have known? That he felt like an idiot and failure, because he should have known there probably were other kids besides Pete, but hadn't thought of it? "Somebody had to come down to help you," Face continued, ignoring his scornful thoughts. "And Murdock hardly could with the boy clinging to him. So I came."
Hannibal acknowledged Face's reply with a nod. "Are you alright?" he asked after a second.
Anger was flaring up inside Face again. "Do I look alright? Yes I do," he snapped. "So I guess I am. Can we get this filth dumped, then?"
Hannibal had to admit that Face did indeed seem okay. And, thinking about it, why shouldn't he? He had lived with this burden for all of his life, and had been okay... functioning... relatively in order. This whole ordeal was having an effect on him, no question. All Hannibal had to do to know that was remember the morning. He could still see Face turning white. He could still see him dash from the room and hear him retch.
He could still see the little boy's face on the TV screen. He had never seen a picture on which Face was younger than fifteen, nonetheless, this face was unmistakable. "Stop," he had demanded. Murdock had frantically punched on the buttons, until the screen had finally turned a blissful black. Face had come back a moment after that, apologising for not having a better grip on himself.
"You comin', Hannibal?" BA asked.
"Yeah, sure..." Hannibal pushed his dark rumination aside and concentrated on the task at hand: get the thugs to the police, and the kids back to their families. He tightened his hold on Gary, and led him upstairs.
Outside at the van he found that Pete had calmed down considerably. Hannibal looked at Murdock, asking for an explanation.
"Petey here's been talking to his Mommy." Murdock said proudly, like the boy had just passed an important test, and Pete nodded just as proudly.
Hannibal gave Gary a good push. "Somebody tie up this scum here," he ordered.
Not surprisingly, Face stepped forward to do it. Hannibal watched him closely as he worked. He was maybe a little rough on the man, but nothing else was out of the ordinary. – And they were all a bit rougher than usual with these guys.
Unfortunately, by ordering Gary to be tied up, Hannibal had drawn Pete's attention to the man, and the boy broke into fresh tears. Murdock hugged him tightly and tried to convince him that the two men were no longer dangerous. "My friends got them, you see?"
"Like cops?" Pete squeaked doubtfully.
"Exactly like cops... No, even better than cops."
"They won't let them get me?" Pete asked, his voice a little surer.
"Never, Petey, just never."
"You gonna take me to Mommy now?"
"I don't know. Am I, Hannibal?"
"Actually, I wanted Face to..." Hannibal started.
"I'm fine, Hannibal!" Face interrupted angrily, stopping in his work long enough to glare at him.
"Are you?" Pete asked Murdock again, pulling on his shirt.
"Apparently, Pete wants to go with Murdock anyway," Face said.
Hannibal resisted the urge to rub his eyes. "We have to change our plans anyway," Hannibal said when Face deposited Gary next to Griz. Both men had their arms tied behind their backs now, and their ankles tied together, so they couldn't run.
"Things have changed," Hannibal continued. "I have counted only with Pete, that would have been easy. Take him to his Mom, then disappear into the sunset... But now we have the police and two more kids to deal with. BA, you got their names?"
BA raised his one arm a bit, presenting the girl. "This is Bethany Grammers, she's eight, knows her address and all." BA gave her a proud smile, and Bethany shyly smiled back. "He," BA raised the boy, "unfortunately isn't talking yet. But we'll get there, won't we, champ? Gonna find your Mommy and Daddy?"
The boy heaved a sigh, but otherwise remained unresponsive.
"Bethany says they called him Howie," BA continued softly. "But..."
But they had dubbed Face Michael, so that didn't mean much.
"If the original plan is out the window, what do we do now?" Face asked.
"You, scum," Hannibal addressed the two tied up men. "Where's your car?" He wasn't even sure they had a car round here, but if he asked them whether they had one, he at the same time gave them the easy excuse to just say no. Therefore he asked as if he knew they had a car.
"You think we tell you?" Gary asked coldly.
"What do I get if I tell you?" Griz asked. "Do you let me go, if I tell you?"
Hannibal couldn't believe the stupidity of this man. Did he really think there was any kind of bargain for him? Hannibal stepped up to Griz, closer than he was comfortable with such a rat, but he had to be close to give his words the wanted effect. "I'll tell you what you get," he hissed into Griz' face. "You'll get me not beating the living daylights out of you. That's what you get. Now, which one is it?"
Griz looked satisfyingly frightened and nodded to his right. "That blue Pontiac..."
Hannibal nodded. "The keys are...?"
"In my pocket," Griz answered, indicating his right-hand pants-pocket.
"Nah, leave it." Hannibal shook his head. "BA, you're gonna have to hotwire the car."
BA nodded, still hugging the two kids to his side.
"Face, you hotwire the Pontiac," Hannibal started to tick off the points of his plan. "I'll drive, the scum will be in the back..." Hannibal let his eyes jump between his men. One of them would have to guard the rats while he was driving. Hannibal would have preferred BA, but BA had to look after the kids, especially "Howie", so he was out. His next choice would have been Murdock, but as it seemed, Pete still didn't want to let go of him, so Murdock was out as well. Left him with Face. Okay, Face had worked fine all along, Hannibal reminded himself. Face would work fine now as well.
"Face, you come along as guard. BA, Murdock, you take the kids. Get them..." Yeah, get them where exactly? Hannibal wondered. The silent boy was not much of a question. He'd have to go to a police-station, no other option. But Pete and Bethany? They were, young as they were, important witnesses, so they should go to the police, too. But wouldn't it be cruel to keep them from their parents any longer than was necessary? But wouldn't the police call the parents first thing anyway, dealing with all the rest later? Hannibal made his decision. "Get them to just any police-station. They'll find them all on their missing persons list..."
"Pete as well?" Murdock asked in a whiny voice.
"Yes, Pete as well."
"But why not home?" Murdock asked wearily. "Petey wants to go home."
"The police will have Maria covered, since they know about her. Pete has been talking to her on the phone already, so he should be okay." Hannibal saw Murdock's dismay with the decision, but ignored it for the moment. Later he had time to deal with Murdock, but not now. "Okay, that's the plan. We'll be meeting again at Face's place."
"Why is it, we always meet at my place?" Face complained.
"Because you always have the nicest, that's why" Hannibal answered, a small smile coming to his lips. Yes, Face would work fine. Work fine and be fine. Hannibal watched him head over to the Pontiac.
He turned to watch the other half of his team. BA climbed into the back of the van, and Hannibal wasn't sure why that surprised him at all. Of course he would stay with the kids. It was just odd seeing him in the back of the van instead of the driver's seat. Pete was reluctantly letting go of Murdock, and Murdock seemed to be just as reluctant to let go of him. Not good, Hannibal thought, Murdock shouldn't use the kid to anchor himself, that was abusive on a very substantial level.
The Pontiac's motor sprang to life, and Hannibal took his attention off BA and the van and back on the scum. He hustled them over to the Pontiac, where he shoved them onto the backseat. "Changed my mind, Face. You're gonna drive."
This time Face did not argue, but just slipped into the driver's seat.
Kipperman grumpily returned to his office. He had been at home for dinner, but then, to his wife's great dismay, Pearsh had called, telling him that they had found something, a clue, troops were already on their way.
Kipperman banged the door shut behind him. He probably should call this Decker-guy. If they had a clue on the child-porn-ring-runners, they had a clue on the boy this team was after. And if the police had found this clue at Terrace Lane, then the team probably had found it as well. Which meant that they were probably there.
Kipperman picked up the phone, dialled the number of the hotel where Decker had said he'd stay the night.
"Yes!" Decker barked into the phone.
"Colonel Decker?"
"Yes... who is it?"
"Lieutenant Kipperman. We may have a clue on this team you're after."
"Where?!" Kipperman could practically see how Decker jumped up, reaching for his... gun, or car-keys, or just something. More likely his gun.
"Odminton, that's a little out of –"
"I know where it is," Decker interrupted. "I checked the map on my way here." And with this he disconnected.
"Very well," Kipperman muttered to himself, putting the phone down. "Next time the A-Team drops into my lap, see if I call you, asshole." He thought that saying good-bye before ending a conversation was minimum politeness. Not to speak of a thank you in this case.
After calling the colonel, there was not much for Kipperman to do but wait for the troops to bring in whoever or whatever they found. He got himself a cup of coffee, shifted the piles of paper on his desk from one side to the other, and was actually glad when his phone rang. "Yeah?"
"Lieutenant Kipperman?" A polite, male voice asked him.
"Well, you called me, you should know. Who's there?" Kipperman replied angrily. He hated people playing silly games and thinking they were funny.
"If you must know, I'm a delivery man..."
"So? Hand in what you have to deliver at the front desk." Kipperman hung up.
The phone rang again.
"Yeah?" he snapped.
"I was not quite finished. Really, where are your manners?"
Involuntarily, Kipperman had to chuckle. Hadn't he complained about minimum politeness himself not 15 minutes earlier?
"I can't deliver my cargo at the front desk," the man spoke on. "You see, I'd love to, but if you'd be so kind and take a look from your window..."
Kipperman hated himself for it, but his curiosity was piqued, so he got up and looked down. There was a phone-booth on the other side of the street, so whoever was calling would be calling from there.
His jaw dropped.
There, in the booth, stood Miller... No, Smith was his real name. He stood there, and waved at him.
"Now, don't rush and send your forces outside before you know what I got for you." Smith pointed at a car, a Pontiac, if Kipperman was not mistaken. Peck stood beside it, looking inside.
"See the car?" Smith asked.
"Yes."
"Inside you'll find two pieces of garbage, called Griz and Gary."
Whereas Smith had sounded jauntily throughout the previous conversation, he now sounded – and looked, if Kipperman could judge that from the distance – disgusted.
"They are two of the ones who run the ring. I have reason to believe that there's at least one more man involved. If you want any more information, I suggest you ask Griz – he's the gagged one. For the prospect of a deal, he'll tell you anything. With my best regards." Smith saluted up at Kipperman, then hung up.
Kipperman remained at the window, saw Smith and Peck run like hell. The car Smith had pointed at was jostling. Somebody inside moved, maybe trying to get to the front seat and behind the wheel.
Kipperman quickly called the front desk, telling the officer on duty to check out that Pontiac on the other side of the street, but not alone. Next he intended to get a radio-connection with Decker to tell him of the new development, but then he just dropped into his seat with a broad, gleeful grin.
No, he would not call the colonel. Maybe he would have if it were just Smith. But Peck... The smile slipped from his face. He took the thin file on the A-Team Hearsh had brought earlier this day. He flipped it open. Peck's face. Kipperman took the screenshot from the file on the porn-ring. Michael Seven's face. One was smiling, the other breaking apart. And yet they resembled each other so much, it was almost spooky.
Kipperman put the photos back into their respective folders.
He looked at Smith's photo.
No, he wouldn't have called even if it were just Smith. They were not bad people. They didn't belong in prison.
Kipperman had read the reason why the MP wanted them. Robbed the bank of Hanoi - according to Smith, under orders.
After having met the man, Kipperman believed him.
TBC
Sorry if you expected Face to fall to pieces ... but I don't think he's that kind of man. He has built his life around the fact that he's been through hell as a young boy, and he came out stronger for it.
