Chapter 9:

The group is startled when the sudden ringing of the phone cuts through the charged atmosphere. Hannibal puts his thought about Carol to the side and immediately puts it on speaker phone.
"Is this the A-team?" a male voice sounds through the speaker.
"That depends." Hannibal replies while chewing his cigar. "Who's asking."
They faintly hear someone being dragged upright and walked to the phone. A groan sounds out in a very recognizable voice.
"Hi there Hannibal." Face is panting and sweat is coating his face and neck. He starts to sway but is held upright by two of the goons. "Thanks guys" he jeers at them with a sneer on his face.
"How are you holding up lieutenant?" At the sound of his commander's voice Face almost lets out a relieved sob. His thinking is starting to become increasingly slow due to the blood loss, and he knows that any information has to be given now.

"Ah well, you know me Colonel. I'm fit as a fiddle. No biggie." Face is punched in the stomach and he falls on his hand and knees retching. He just needs to get one more piece of information to the colonel. Maureen is screaming expletives in the background. Beth burrows herself into Murdock's side as far as she can go. The pilot holds her and whispers reassurances in her ear. His jaw's set and his hard eyes focused on the phone. Face's voice comes through again, but much fainter and shakier than before. "Remember grampa's best friend? They always had each other's backs."
"Shut up you fool!" The first voice can be heard clearly across the room. "If you want to see your buddy again, you will bring that horse and paperwork to the race tomorrow! And if you don't…" Ian grabs the lieutenants injured shoulder and digs in his fingers.

Face's voice suddenly raises from a muffled moan to a full blown scream. B.A. is up on his feet in an instant. His arms bulging in agitated anger.
"Don't you touch my lil' brother!"
"Face!"
"Or what?" the man laughs as another scream is torn from Face's throat before it cut's off suddenly.
"Face, wake up! Face!" the woman screams in desperation.
"Tomorrow, at Saratoga, be there!"

Click… The line goes silent.

Both Carol and Beth have their hands clasped over their mouths. The men look at each other with grim expressions on their faces.
"Lil brother is hurting bad, man." B.A. looks ready to punch something. Murdock subtly touches his friend's arm, trying to keep him calm. Hannibal looks at his chewed up cigar and puts it down. It's no good anymore. He's mentally going over the things his lieutenant had said. Years ago, the team had agreed on a certain set of coded messages. Fit as a fiddle meant hurt. Not too badly, but definitely in need of saving. No biggie: a stab or bullet wound in a non-lethal place. Hannibal thought he hadn't heard a limp, so that meant an arm or shoulder. Face let them know that he would be fine until they could save him, but not to take too long. It's the second part of the message that puzzles him.

Murdock squeezes Beth's shoulders, stands up gingerly and wanders into the parlor. B.A. keeps close to the wavering pilot, just in case.

Hannibal turns to the ladies, "If you please excuse us." and follows his men to the parlor. Murdock doesn't even turn on the lights before walking to the side table. His uncanny ability to find his way in any situation evident in the way he moves. Even in Nam he could find his way through the jungle at night after only seeing it from above. The colonel swears that Murdock has bats in his ancestry somewhere. The pilot picks up the photograph of Darlington sr. and his friend and turns it over. Patting down his pockets for his trusty army knife, he snaps it open and cuts the back from the frame.
"What are you doing?!" Beth squeaks from the door. She turns on the lights and hastily makes her way to Murdock to try and snatch the frame from his hands. "Maureen will be furious!"
Holding it above her head he removes the cardboard back and a folded piece of paper flutters to the ground. Beth reaches down to pick up the paper and unfolds it. Her eyes widen in shock and she looks into Murdock's brown eyes.
"This is…"
He nods. "That's the original contract."

Maureen is taken to a windowless back room and pushed roughly inside. Face regained consciousness while being dragged between two goons. He weakly tries to get his feet under him and his weight of his arm, but they won't let him. They laugh when he grunts in pain.
"Have fun with him sweetheart." The men throw their burden on the filthy floor and leave the room, locking the door. Face lies on the floor panting and shivering, trying to regain his bearings. After a few minutes he agonizingly slowly rolls over and props himself up against the wall. Maureen watches his progress with mixed feelings, eventually settling on anger.
"Why didn't you call for help?" She bites out. Face debates answering her, but decides he hasn't got the strength for an altercation with her right now. "Well... Why didn't you?!" Maureen's anger grows with the man's continued silence. "Answer me!"

Face has had enough and snaps. "It's not like I wanted to get shot, now was it!" He leans his head against the wall panting harshly now, unable to say anything more.
In the flickering light from the old light bulb, Maureen gazes at the lieutenant. From the blossoming bloodstain on his shirt and jacket to his sweaty hair. He's miserable, wet and obviously in a lot of pain. Her heart pours out to him, the anger dissipating. She moves closer to Face and notices him flinch, like he expects her to slap him. She rips strips of fabric from her blouse to make him a make shift sling. Maureen softly touches his cheek, running her thumb over his eye brow. He subconsciously leans into the touch.
"Face, I'm sorry." His bleary blue eyes open to look at her and he smiles faintly. She unbuttons his shirt and slowly peels it away from the wound, making him hiss and try to pull away. He pats her hand with his bloodied right one, managing another smile for her benefit.
"'Sssallright… stopped bleeding…" his words are starting to slur. Maureen isn't feeling in the least reassured but sits down next to him when he starts sliding sideways limply, taking some of his weight. "Been through… war… 'm gonna… gonna be fine…" She feels Face getting heavier by the moment and it doesn't take long for him to pass out.

Author's note:
If there is anyone interested in Beta-ing or pre reading my stories, please PM me. I want someone to look out for loose story threads, tense/grammar and flow faults.