PART TWO

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Thank you for your time, ma'am," Face smiled as he descended the steps on the side of the porch slowly, looking back over his shoulder at the woman standing in the doorway. "And again, I'm very sorry about your daughter. We'll get this mess cleared up just as soon as we possibly can." She smiled sadly, and he turned away, skipping down the last two steps and toward the waiting car.

"Let me guess," Murdock offered, as Face opened the passenger side door and slipped in. "Janice Corrier died a few years ago."

"Five," Face specified, shutting the door behind him.

Murdock sighed as he put the car in reverse, looking over the back of the seat. "So glad we came all the way out here just to find that out," he mumbled.

Face grabbed the notebook out from under the seat and flipped it open. One more identity to cross off the list. So far they still had no idea who Ashley Carver/Green/Doldman really was. But they'd tracked down almost all of her aliases, starting with the one she'd said was her real identity. It wasn't. Most of them, like "Janice Corrier", had died several years ago. Others were still living. Some were completely fabricated. Those had been the easiest to eliminate. Now they had a shorter list, but still no direction. And it had been too long.

"Ya know, I hate to say it, Face..." Murdock sighed, "but what're we doin' here?" He glanced at Face as he pulled out onto the road. "It's been two months already. Even if we find her - what's the chances she's still alive?"

Face frowned as he turned his head to look out the window, leaning on the door. He didn't want to answer that. He'd already considered the answer. He'd considered it about three weeks ago, as he was considering just how monotonous their lives had become. They couldn't devote themselves to another case with this one still open - and it was just taking so damn long to run down all of these names and people.

It did seem pointless, if he was honest. It was also ridiculously expensive and time consuming. But what were they supposed to do? It wasn't like they could just throw up their hands and forget about her, even if the thought had crossed all of their minds. They were probably the only ones who knew or cared that she'd gone missing. Perhaps just as importantly, they were still under her employ until both parties agreed that this assignment had been successfully completed and they were paid. Or until somebody found her body, whichever came first.

"You got a better suggestion?" he asked, holding his chin in his palm.

"Well, no, I'm just sayin'..." Murdock was just as uncomfortable with the possibility of failure as he was. And probably even more uncomfortable with the fact that she probably was dead.

"What time is it?" Face asked offhandedly.

"'Bout quarter to six."

"Hannibal and BA won't be at the restaurant until seven," he mumbled. "Let's take the car back before we go meet them."

"How much longer you think we're gonna do this, Face?"

Finally, Face turned and looked at him. It wasn't that what he saw was unexpected. In fact, it was exactly what he had anticipated. But actually seeing the concern and the moral dilemma written on his best friend's face was a bit more of an emotional blow than he'd been expecting. "I don't know," he admitted. "I guess until we find her."

"What if we don't find her?"

Face studied him. Murdock was glancing back and forth between Face and the road, clearly distraught. He wanted an answer, something reassuring to tell him. But they both knew there was nothing. The simple fact of the matter was, sooner or later they were going to run out of money. They were going to have to move on to other jobs, whether or not they found her. "Then I guess we don't find her, Murdock. What do you want me to say?"

Murdock forced a smile to cover up the lines of worry on his face, but it wasn't convincing. It was the same look he had every time they pulled away from a town, no closer to finding her than when they'd come in. But even this look didn't concern Face as much as the gaze of hopeful expectation that would be present at the next town.

***

"Anything?" Hannibal asked as Face slipped into the chair across the table. To his right, Murdock sat down and immediately reached for the menu.

"Man, I am starvin'," Murdock declared. Face glanced at him briefly, but considered it pointless to mention that he was holding the menu upside-down. At least that serious, worried look on his face was gone.

"Janice Corrier died in a car accident five years ago," he informed him, looking over the wine list. "I saw her picture when I talked to her mother. It wasn't her."

"I still don't know why we can't do this over the phone," BA grumbled. "Why we gotta go run all over the country and talk to these people?"

"You can cross off Alice Rogers, too," Hannibal offered, ignoring the complaint. "We found the guy who sold her the information for that and he was glad to help us in any way he could."

Face glanced up as the waiter approached, and smiled. "A bottle of your best Zinfandel, please."

"You guys got anything like a hamburger?" Murdock asked, frowning at the menu.

"This ain't a McDonalds, fool!" BA shot as the waiter stared, not sure how to react.

"How about pizza?" he tried, glancing up. "That's Italian, ain't it?"

"Uh... our pizzas are on the back page, right..." It was then that he realized the menu was upside down and he hesitated, not entirely sure what to do.

"I want an extra-large cheese and pepperoni pizza," Murdock declared, folding the menu shut and handing it to him. "Extra cheese, and just a little bit of sauce. And make sure it's spread evenly 'cause there's nothin' worse than gettin' a mouthful of nothin' but sauce in one bite and then the next bite is dry."

The waiter blinked, and opened his mouth as if to protest that pepperoni and cheese was not on the menu, but he thought better of it. He turned away without another word and Face watched him with a slight smirk, reaching for his water. "I still think we're gonna find her somewhere in the Midwest," he declared, glancing across the table at Hannibal. "Her accent wasn't East Coast."

"Sir?"

Face looked up at the waiter who approached from the right, looking anxious. "Yes?" he asked. He was immediately wary of the intrusion.

"Is your name Templeton Peck?"

If he wasn't cautious before, he sure as hell was now. But he hid it under a confident smile. "It is," he answered. He could feel the eyes of the others burning holes into this man, but all of them remained cool and casual. It wouldn't be wise to make a scene until they at least knew what they were dealing with.

"There is a woman on the phone," the waiter said with a slight sigh of relief. "She says it is urgent."

He blinked. There were several questions in his mind, not the least of which was how in the world anyone knew he was here. He exchanged a quick glance with Hannibal as he stood, setting his napkin on the table beside his plate. He walked with the waiter to the desk near the door, and smiled as he was handed the phone. "Thank you."

The man smiled and nodded. Face waited until he had turned away before putting the phone up to his ear. "Hello?"

"Face!" The whispered voice of a frantic woman made his eyes widen noticeably.

"Ashley!" he hissed, turning toward the wall and hunching over the phone. "Where the hell are you? How did you know where to - "

"I don't have much time," she cut him off in a rush. "They only left me for a minute."

"Left you where? Where are you?" Any other questions could be answered later.

"They're coming to the restaurant! You have to get out of there now!" she raced, nearly tripping over her words.

"What?" It took him a moment to even process just how shocked he was. "What are you talking about? How did you know that - "

"Please, there's no time to explain. You've got to get out of there!"

His eyes immediately turned to the wall of windows overlooking the parking lot, just in time to see the familiar black cars pulling in. He stared at them for a moment with mixed feelings. If they came in here and started shooting, people were going to get hurt. But at the same time, they'd just warmed a very cold trail by showing up here.

"Where are you?" he demanded.

"It's a hotel," she stammered. "It's a big hotel and I don't know where it is but it's called the Baymont."

"Can you see anything?" He turned and waved, trying to get the attention of any one of the three still sitting at the table. But his wave turned into a shift of position and a pleasant smile as a waitress walked by and stared at him. The instinct to avoid making a scene was strong. But at the same time, he realized that if those men came in here, they could end up making even more of a scene. "Outside? In the room? A phone book? What city are you in?"

"I don't know!" she cried. "They left this number on the dresser and they left me tied up and I managed to..."

"What do you see outside?"

The few seconds it took her to get to the window were excruciating. He waved again at the table. He could feel his pulse picking up, the all-too-familiar adrenaline racing into his bloodstream. The cars outside were parked. The doors were opening. A quick glance back, and he gave a short, shrill whistle. A few people looked. More importantly, Hannibal looked.

"There's a..." she started, "a diner and a truck stop and um... it's a freeway."

"What freeway?" He pointed outside, where all four doors on all three cars had opened."Can you see any signs?"

"It's um..." Face's heartbeat skipped as he ducked around the wide, decorated pillar near the phone, out of the enemy's line of sight. All three of his teammates were rising to their feet. "It's pointing... it's an off ramp... it's a junction east to Tulsa."

Tulsa? She was right back where they'd started! One major city west of Tulsa... "Can you see the name of the freeway anywhere?"

Murdock and BA had already disappeared through and into the kitchen, looking for a back door. Hannibal was waiting for Face, but his look warned of his sense of urgency.

"No... no, I can't see anything!" On the phone, Ashley was sobbing. He had too much on his mind to even care, much less sympathize. "Face, I'm so scared! Should I run? I'm not... there's nobody here. I could probably make it to the..."

"No, don't run." That could get her killed. He dared a quick look around the pillar. They were almost to the door. Damn it! "Just stay there and keep calm. Don't let anyone know you called us. We'll be there." Think, Face! What do you need to find her? "Open the door and tell me what room number you're in," he demanded.

"Face!" Hannibal was not impatient but he couldn't wait any longer. Heart beating in his ears, Face crouched a little, ready to sprint. He'd already mapped out his path.

"It's..."

Another few, agonizing seconds. He could almost hear the footsteps of the men as they opened the door and stepped inside. They locked eyes with the hostess who needed a head count. Then they locked eyes with Face.

Face saw the man reach into his jacket at the same instant that he heard the answer through the phone. He didn't process her words until several steps later, after he'd dropped the phone and sprinted, head down and hunched over, weaving through the tables to the familiar chorus of screams and shattering glass. 308. Room 308. Baymont hotel, west of Tulsa.

He nearly tripped on the people who had hit the floor, hands covering their heads as if that would somehow shelter them from the gunfire. Hannibal was returning fire from the door of the kitchen, giving him some cover. He ran toward him and followed a step behind as Hannibal turned and ran full speed through the kitchen, dodging the cooks and appliances and finally stumbling out the back door. They looked both ways, trying to get their sense of direction. Where was the van?

Screeching tires. Face moved first, pulling out ahead of Hannibal. In a full sprint, he spun around the corner of the building and right into a hailstorm of bullets. He doubled back so fast he fell right on top of Hannibal. Pain. How badly was he hurt? He couldn't tell. He couldn't even tell where the pain was. Too much adrenaline...

Shooting pain made him cry out as Hannibal jerked him to his feet. More gunfire. Automatic weapons. The van appeared and he managed to catch Murdock's hand as Hannibal threw him through the open side door of the van. "Go, BA!"

Confused and disoriented – an effect amplified by the pain – Face stayed still, bleeding on the carpet of the van. His heart was pounding. His thoughts were a blur. He was only vaguely aware of the rounds of semi-automatic gunfire echoing from Murdock's weapon. The side door shut hard as they swerved out onto the street.

"Face? You alright?"

His eyes slid closed, and the world around him faded. He never had a chance to answer.

***

His arm hurt. So did his head. A quiet, involuntary moan escaped him as he reached up with his good arm to rub his forehead.

"Wakey, wakey, Faceman..."

His eyes weren't even open yet and he was already dreading the idea of being awake. "How long was I out?"

"Couple hours." Murdock talked as if he'd just asked about the weather. "You're okay. Hey, who was on the phone with you?"

He groaned. Phone? Face was still trying to figure out whohe was. Then he'd figure out wherehe was and howhe'd gotten there. There was no phone in that equation. He opened his eyes and saw Murdock hovering over him. Eyes closing again, he turned his head away. "If I'm so okay, why are you staring at me like that?"

"Leave him alone, Murdock!" That rough voice was just as familiar. "Man's been shot. Doesn't need your crazy face bein' the first thing he sees."

Too late. "Yeah, a tall blond would be preferable," he slurred. He opened his eyes to look across at BA. Hotel room. BA was pacing near the door. "Think you can get one of those for me?"

"Glad to see you're feeling better." Hannibal. Eyes slowly coming into focus, he turned the other way. Murdock had, in fact, backed off. Now it was Hannibal at the side of the bed, offering a plastic cup of water.

"Eh, what's a little gunshot wound?" Face managed, pushing himself up carefully. He hadn't had his yearly quota of gunshot wounds yet.

"The bullet went through," Hannibal said as Face took the cup, using his good arm. "You were lucky. Lost a fair amount of blood, though. You're going to have to take it easy for a while."

"That explains why I feel like I just rode a roller coaster one too many times." He sipped the water slowly.

"You took a big risk staying on that phone so long," Hannibal pointed out. "Why?"

Phone. Everyone wanted to know about the phone. He shut his eyes and searched his fuzzy memories for a phone. He was running through the kitchen... Who was he running from? The men in the black cars. The cars that pulled up and he saw them through the window while he was talking... on the phone. Trying to get the team's attention. Now he remembered. "It was Ashley," he mumbled.

"Ashley?" Hannibal asked, clearly shocked. "How did she know where to find us?"

"Better question," Murdock corrected, "how did those nasty dudes in the black cars know where to find us?"

"I don't know," Face answered, shaking his head. He only did that for an instant before he realized that such a movement was going to make him hurl. The nausea crashed over him in waves. "I didn't have a chance to ask. But she knew they were coming."

Hannibal's arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes narrowed as he considered what he was hearing. Something wasn't right. He was sure they could all smell it. How had they been found? And maybe more significantly, why the sudden switch from defense to offense? His team had been circling the country in search of that woman, and the men who'd taken her had been running away - always one step ahead of them. Why suddenly change tactics and come after them in a restaurant of all places?

"Did she tell you where she was?" Hannibal asked.

"Yeah, she said she was in a hotel." Face finished the last of the water and reached over to set the cup on the bedside table. "There was a freeway and a sign pointing east to Tulsa." Eyes sliding closed, he relaxed back against the headboard.

"Tulsa, Oklahoma?" BA shot. "That's right back where we started!"

"I doubt it's a coincidence," Hannibal considered.

"She's in uh..." Face was struggling to remember the important details that he'd risked his life for. It took energy, and he didn't have much of that. "She said the name of the hotel was the Baymont. And she's in room 308." He opened his eyes just slightly and looked up at Hannibal. "But I dunno how much longer they'll keep her there if they find out she's making phone calls."

"It's an eighteen-hour drive from here to Tulsa," BA stated.

"And she's west of Tulsa," Murdock added. "If my memory serves me... there's nothin' west of Tulsa for at least a hundred miles."

"Next major city," Face slurred. He was getting confused. "There's only two of them." Blood loss would do that.

"How fast could you fly us there, Murdock?"

"In what?" It wasn't sarcasm. It was a sincere question.

"In whatever we can get our hands on," Hannibal answered.

"I ain't goin' in no plane."

Murdock thought about it for a moment. "I could probably rent a plane," he concluded. Then he smiled. "We don't normally play 'round these parts so I shouldn't have any trouble finding some poor unsuspecting sucker to loan me one."

"Get on that," Hannibal ordered. Murdock turned away and began rummaging for the phone book. "How long of a flight is it from here to Tulsa?"

"Uh... prolly 'bout three hours. Straight south."

"Guys...?" Face sounded as disoriented as he felt. His eyes rolled back into his head and he shut them.

"Yeah?"

"I think... I'm gonna go... sleep now..."

If anyone answered, he wasn't aware enough to notice.

***

"Face, you awake?"

"Nnnh hnn..."

"We're almost there. How's your arm?"

He considered it briefly, and gradually opened his eyes to stare down at the floor of the plane. He was strapped into a seat. He was dizzy and disoriented. But the pounding headache had faded a little. He glanced down, looking at the bandage wrapped around his arm. It had bled through, but it didn't appear to still be bleeding. "S'alright," he mumbled.

The plane was small – two seats in the front and two in the back. To Face's left, BA was strapped in securely. Hannibal was turned around in the seat in front of him, studying him. Face flexed his fist a few times, feeling where the muscles in his biceps were torn. At least it wasn't his dominant arm. "We're going to have to change these bandages, though."

"We'll do it as soon as we land," Hannibal informed him. "We used the last of the supplies before we left."

Face let his head rest back against the seat as the little plane rocked and jerked with the turbulence. "Hey, Hannibal?"

"Yeah?"

"Does this seem... I don't know... strange to you?"

Hannibal chuckled. Everything about that girl and the people who were chasing her seemed strange. "Does what seem strange?"

"I mean... didn't they ever take her away from that area? What is she doing down there?"

"I'll be sure to ask her as soon as we get her out safely," Hannibal stated.

"You know..." Face frowned deeply, "I don't think I've ever distrusted a client quite as much as I distrust her."

"You and me, both," Hannibal stated.

Face sighed deeply and turned his head to the side, using the last few minutes of the flight to rest. They didn't know what they were getting into. And he needed to be on his guard. That wasn't going to be easy with an injury... and so many questions running through his head.

***

"Face, get us a key." He had already started moving, and he didn't stop to question the order as he stepped out of the rented car. "And Face!"

He turned and walked backwards a few steps, listening. "If she is here," Hannibal warned, "they'll be expecting us."

He waved with his good arm and turned away. On the way to the door, he loosened his tie and reached up to ruffle his hair. As he stepped through the lobby doors, he dragged his feet all the way to the desk. Her nametag said "Jasmine."

"Can I help you?"

"Oh, I... certainly hope so..." Brow furrowed, hands twisting nervously in front of him, Face shifted from side to side. "I seem to have... locked all my keys in my car. I..." He laughed tensely. "I can call my brother to bring me a spare set when he gets out of this conference but it's not ending until almost 10:00 tonight and I just..." He sighed deeply, his shoulders rising and falling. He could tell she was waiting for him to finish so that she could offer the spare key, but he gave it another few lines just for good measure. "This whole weekend has been an exhausting and horrible experience and I really just want to go and... sleep for a good ten hours or so. Is there any way I can get a spare key? It's room 308, should be under my friend's name, Chris Folder?"

He watched as the girl shuffled the papers, eyes scanning upside down at the same pace as her own. He found it just in time. The room was registered to a Thomas Benefield.

"Any chance it might be under a different name?"

"Perhaps mine," he suggested. "I can't really remember who made the reservations, you know. Thomas Benefield?"

She smiled as she looked up. "That's it. But I'm afraid I'll need to see some ID."

"Oh sure, no prob-..." He stopped patting his pockets suddenly with a wide-eyed look of pure horror. "Oh, no! My wallet's in my car too!" He turned away and paced a few steps, frantic and quickly escalating in both volume and desperation. "Oh my... I can't believe this is happening! My wallet with my money and credit cards! I can't even order a pizza!" He stopped, throwing himself forward on the counter with his head in his hands. "Why does this always happen to me? How do I manage to screw up a nice, relaxing weekend getaway by doing something so stupid as locking my keys in the car? How?"

Clearly, she was caught off guard by the outburst. "Mr. Benefield, I..."

"My... I..." He stammered a few times in panicked-but-exhausted frustration. "Is there any way...? I mean...? How can... Can I call my brother and... and you can talk to him and you'll see, this is all such a huge..." He turned away again, walking a few steps. "Oh, I just can't believe this. Why does this always happen to - "

"Mr. Benefield," the woman started, cutting him off. As he turned back, he saw the look of sympathy on her face. Jackpot. He watched as she opened the drawer and fumbled through it for just a moment before holding out a gold key.

"Oh my God, thank you," he rushed. "Thank you so much!"

"As soon as you get your key out of the car, I'll need you to bring that back," she stated firmly. "Is it a deal?"

"Oh, it's absolutely a deal. Thank you so, so much. I..." He was already backing out of the lobby, towards the hallway. "I'll put in a great word for you with your supervisor in the morning, I promise!"

She laughed as he backed around the corner, out of sight. Once he could no longer see her, he turned and let the façade fall away as he headed for the exit at the end of the hallway. He smiled politely at the elderly couple that stepped out of the room on his right, and edged around the vendor filling the machines. He opened the glass doors, noting the stairwell just before them, and then the door to the outside. A quick, sharp whistle caught BA's attention, and the three of them filed out and crossed the parking lot.

"I want to keep this as low-key as possible," Hannibal warned as he stepped through the open door. "And I want you to stay out of the line of fire," he ordered Face.

"Yeah, I figured as much."

"There are a lot of civilians in here. Is there another stairwell at the other end of the hall?"

Face nodded. The exit signs had been on either end. "And an elevator in the center, by the lobby."

"Murdock, I want you watching the far stairwell," Hannibal ordered as the door to the outside closed.

Murdock turned immediately, heading into the stairwell.

"Face, you're on this side. BA and I will go in."

"Yeah, that sounds real low-key, Colonel," Face smirked.

Hannibal stopped, a step above him, and turned. "Let's try and do this without any bullets, huh? There are too many people who could get caught in the crossfire."

Face put up his hands, not protesting. "Hey, I've had my fill of gunshot wounds for one day," he reminded. "You don't need to worry about me."

Their footsteps echoed off the empty walls of the stairwell as they jogged up to the third floor with relative ease. Face lagged behind, moving much more slowly. He knew better than to start running again when he'd been recently injured. Once they reached their floor, Hannibal checked the hallway before stepping out, his weapon in hand but pointed down at the floor. Murdock followed, and jogged down the hallway to the opposite side, pointing out the room as he passed. The four of them moved like a well-oiled machine, in perfect sync. Face took a position against the wall as Murdock disappeared into the stairwell to check it. With BA and Hannibal on either side of the door, the colonel fit the key neatly into the lock and turned it.