Chapter 10: Once More Unto The Breach

June 9th

2:28 p.m.

"So, I hear we've solved one of our little problems."

Murdock smiled widely from where he was reclining on the couch. "You mean Behl?"

"We had a session earlier, and though I can't tell you what was said, I'm pretty sure you can take an educated guess."

"I talked to him before I came over here. He's lookin' like he's finally started sleepin' through the nights."

"Says you had a hand in it."

Murdock shrugged dismissively. "Well, not so sure about that, Doc, sometimes things just happen."

Richter cast a glance his way, took a deep breath, and continued on cautiously.

"Well, while things are 'just happening', how about we talk about our other ongoing problem?"

Murdock's grin sank away for a brief moment before he adopted a nonchalant smile. "Aw, it's not really a problem, more of an ongoin' annoyance."

"I don't suppose there's any chance of you making peace with our favorite orderly?"

All traces of the smile faded as Murdock stood up and started pacing the room with more than a hint of agitation, gesturing broadly.

"C'mon, Doc, the guy's got a face like a plane crash, the charm of a latrine, and a mean streak a mile wide. He makes like he's the golden boy with anyone important and bullies everyone else when he knows no one's lookin'. You can't make peace with people like that, just tryin' makes 'em think they've finally got the upper hand, and then you've really gotta keep your guard up."

"So what are you going to do?"

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he answered, "Same thing I've been doin'. He won't make a move if anyone's watchin', and I make sure we don't cross paths when there's not. He'll either get tired of playin' around and give it up, or he'll get tired of playin' around and finally do something he'll get sacked for."

Richter pondered silently, then determinedly reached over and turned off the tape recorder at his side.

"Murdock, if anyone asks, I never said this, but you know there's nothing I can do as long as this guy's playing it straight in front of right people." He paused significantly. "And I know you have connections."

Murdock stopped his pacing and eyed him warily. "I don't have any connections."

"Well, if you did have connections, I'd rather see something done about him before you get hurt and not after. You keep putting yourself in harm's way whenever you think someone needs you, and in your mind, everyone needs you."

"Not everyone, just the one's that can't take care of themselves as well as I can."

"And you can take care of yourself, is that what you're saying?"

Pulling his hands from his pockets, he swept off his cap and ran a hand back through his hair. Taking a shaky breath, Murdock tried to put the thoughts running through his head into words. "Doc, everywhere I go there's someone lookin' out for me. When I'm in here it's you, and Mackie, and DeRane, and Thompson. Out there... Well, if I did have connections, maybe sometimes I'd prefer knowing that I don't need them to wipe my nose every time somethin' doesn't go my way. I can handle this guy, he's small time."

"This isn't a scraped knee, Murdock, I've been watching the man and I've seen the look he has in his eyes before. To be honest, I'd rather have him locked up in one of those rooms than you."

Murdock looked at Richter for a long moment.

"You know what I like about you, Doc?"

"What's that?"

"You remind me of Woody Woodpecker." He let out the trademark laugh at the top of his lungs.

"Murdock, don't change the subject."

"I'm not changin' the subject, we're talkin' about Woody Woodpecker. How can you not love Woody, we're talking about a guy originally voiced by Mel Blanc here! Hey, you ever see the one where Woody sneaks into a baseball game?"

Richter sighed resignedly, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can't say that I have."

Murdock grinned maniacally and started tearing around the office, re-creating the episode scene-by-scene as an overly-energetic one-man show, until Richter was finally rescued by a knock on the door from his next appointment.

June 9th

3:02 p.m.

As soon as he shut the door behind him, Murdock leaned back against the wall and rubbed at the tension building in the back of his neck. "Damn, and things were goin' so well."

He rolled his neck in the hopes of staving off the headache he felt edging its way in. "Thing is, ya know he's right. The guys would kill ya if they found out you hadn't filled 'em in at the first sign of trouble." He chuckled dryly. "Hell, B.A. would probably mount my head on the wall with a nice shiny lil' plaque. 'Fool Who Thought He Had Something To Prove'. I should write 'em a note, let 'em know I wanna be up there wearin' my Captain Bellybuster cap."

He peeled himself off the wall and stalked towards the stairwell, intending to head back down to the first floor and to his room for some solitude, but something had been nagging quietly in the back of his head all morning. Standing on the landing, he looked up at the underside of the steps leading to the floors above.

Resolutely, he began to climb.

Pressing his ear to the door at the top, he listened for movement on the other side, then set to work. He had it unlocked in a matter of moments. "You're gettin' entirely too good at this." he whispered to himself as the knob turned freely under his hand. Easing it open slowly, he took in the empty roof and then slid himself out of the building.

Keeping himself low, he made his way once again to the maintenance hatch.

He crouched down in front of it and eyed the padlock. "You were in there, I know you were in there. Now, how'd you get in and out with that padlock secured, ya crafty devil?"

He grasped it firmly, giving it a yank, but it remained steadfast in its determination to remain tightly locked.

"There's gotta be a trick." He turned his attention to the hatch itself, running his hands over the surface, focusing his attention on the small holes at the nearest edge, placed there to give personnel a way to lift the heavy slab of metal. Grasping the lock once more, he began to spin it around the metal ring it was affixed to, finally finding an angle where, when upside down, the lock lined up with one of the holes.

"Clever, buddy, very clever. Be a pain in the ass, but it can be done."

He pulled the lock-picks from his pocket. "Me, I'll settle for being able to pick it again from the outside."

It was still giving him trouble, even with the help this time of direct sunlight, but he coaxed it open eventually. He laid it on the roof, well away from the edge, knowing he'd spend an hour finding it again amongst the machinery if it were knocked down the access shaft and that it wouldn't be secure in his pocket if he was going to be doing the crawling he expected. He hoisted himself once more into the waiting maw and lowered the metal door behind him.

"Let's see what's down here that's worth learnin' that lil' trick for."

He lowered himself down the rungs, wishing he'd thought to bring the flashlight, knowing that the few rays of sunlight sneaking in wouldn't reach the places he expected to find himself.

At the bottom, he dug through his pockets, one by one, until he found what he was looking for.

"Y'know, B.A. always made fun of me for carrying you around when I don't smoke, but I'm tellin' ya, when the Colonel wants a light, the Colonel gets a light."

He flicked the lighter, and held it above his head, peering at the wall before him. About ten feet up was an opening, pipes running along one side, leading further into the building. He slowly lowered the flickering flame and scanned the surface beneath the conduit intently. After less than a minute, the lighter was getting too hot to hold, but by then he'd found what he was looking for.

Scuff marks on the wall, about halfway between the floor and the hole above him.

Author's Notes:

Okay, I lied, it's going to be thirty chapters. The exploration I'd planned to complete in chapter ten required so much descriptive text that it ended up running more than twice the length of any of my earlier chapters, therefore I'm splitting it into two parts so that everyone can take a breather half-way through.

On the plus-side, you don't have to translate a single sentence of Behl-speak!

Now, I think the sane thing for Murdock to do would be to take Richter's advice. Of course, if he had his head on straight all the time, he wouldn't be there, would he?

On a final note, all hail Wikipedia and YouTube for helping out a little authoress who hadn't seen a Woody Woodpecker cartoon in decades.