"I still don't understand why Mad Dog and I can't take one room and you two take another," Frankie said to Murdock as they got their stuff unpacked.

"Hannibal already explained that," he told her, "It's a precautionary measure incase we get ambushed here."

"Well I still don't like it," she said.

"I know you don't," he replied, "Nobody said you had to. Look Frankie, I know that you're in love with M.D. and that you feel it's your job to protect him…"

"It's more than that, Murdock," she told him, "Look, you know why you got locked up in the loony bin, but can you imagine being arrested for a murder that you can't even remember if you committed or not? He has almost no memory of that night, and he's about killed himself for two years trying to remember something that he can't, can you imagine what that's like?"

He shook his head, "No, you're right, I can't."

"Neither can I," Frankie said, "Though I admit to my own lapses in memory of that night…Murdock, there's something else that I didn't tell Hannibal."

Oh boy, Murdock tried to anticipate just how bad this revelation could be. "What is it?"

"I told you guys that when Murdoch got arrested, that I had just turned 17…had quite literally turned 17, it was my birthday that night and when we got back from dinner we had a big cake on the dining room table and we ate a quarter of it, we forgot to put it away before we went to bed. I don't know how or why I noticed it at the time, or that I remember it now…but I remember something else from that night, when we went downstairs, when we heard the sirens and saw the lights flashing outside, they shone in through the windows and I saw that the cake was still on the table…but the metal server we'd cut it with was gone."

Murdock was putting the equation together and said, "You think that that's what actually killed the woman?"

"I don't know," Frankie said in a quiet voice as she shook her head, "It was a narrow blade, I guess it could be confused with a kitchen knife, but for that to be true…"

"It means Masterson came into the house once, took the server," Murdock said.

"Killed Alice Arden with it, brought her into the house, dumped her body, and took off, the cake server in tow."

"As a souvenir like Hannibal said," Murdock said, "So he might have actually been onto something."

"You didn't think he was?" Frankie noticed.

"I thought he was just throwing that in to his questions to throw the authorities off and shake them up some," Murdock said as he sat down on the bed and scratched his head, "Oh boy, even Columbo couldn't solve this one."

"Oh just one more thing, Murdock," Face said as he came into the room, "I was wondering if…" he saw the grim looks on their faces and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Well Facey another piece has just been dropped into this jigsaw puzzle," Murdock told him, "And you aren't going to like this one."

"I haven't liked any of them so far," he said, "I don't even like being here!"

"Oh yeah? Then go look out the window," Frankie said, "It's women's volleyball out on the beach right now, that ought to perk you up real fast."

"Very funny," Face dryly remarked.


Hannibal pulled back the curtain to the window in his room and looked out towards the shore.

"So tell me, Sheila," he said, "What's the story with the carrier out there?"

Suddenly the woman working in the hotel became very quiet. Hannibal guessed what the reason for that was and he assured you, "Don't worry, the U.S. Army hasn't been interested in anything we've had to say for over 10 years."

She nodded knowingly and said, a breath of relief working its way out of her, "It was about 20 years ago, one morning after a horrible storm everybody on the island woke up and found the carrier on the beach. Most of the crew was dead, only three men were still on it, it was a wonder they hadn't all been killed."

"From the American Navy," Hannibal guessed.

"Yes," Sheila said, "The way it was always told to me, they had been given orders to transport the carrier across the ocean, there it would be filled up with aircraft and taken across the ocean again for an attack."

"20 years ago, that would be around the time of the Cuban Missile Crisis," Hannibal said, "They were supposed to load it up so the planes could be moved to Cuba to attack them?"

"Yes," she nodded, "But part of the crew had other plans, they thought if the carrier became lost, it would take a long time to get another one on the same path."

"Sabotage?" B.A. asked, "That's what it was about?"

"More like mutiny," Hannibal said, "Some guys in the Navy didn't want any part of what was going on so they decided to turn the ship around halfway between the two points…and they found this place by accident?"

"Just like Columbus and America," Sheila told him, "When they were found on the beach the morning after the storm, they were half delirious and taken to the hospital."

"So what happened to them?" B.A. asked.

Sheila shrugged and said, "We have no extradition treaty with the U.S., so nobody decided that the Navy or anybody back in America needed to know about what happened. Their friends were all dead and lost at sea, what point in making them suffer more than they already had? So…we left the carrier on the beach and let the men live here. Since people use the carrier when they land, we try to keep it in good condition."

"And where are these men now?" Hannibal asked her.

"Dead," she answered bluntly, "They died years ago…they requested they not be sent back to America for burial and that nobody find out what happened, so they were buried here, and we left the carrier on the beach since nobody who could find the island could make any claim for it."

"Where were they buried?" Hannibal asked.

"At a cemetery in the city," Sheila explained, "But if you follow the trees to the west of the hotel, you'll find the memorial site for them, three crosses in a row."

"Thanks, Sheila," Hannibal said, "I think I'll check it out." He turned to the sergeant and said, "Feel like coming, B.A.?"


"It don't make sense, Hannibal," B.A. said as they walked through the rainforest, "Why would the military send out an aircraft carrier to load up with planes, so they could fly over Cuba and attack them?"

"I seem to recall during the Crisis that there were talks about attacking the Cubans from sea and air," Hannibal said, "But the plans were aborted. At least that's what we were told, but perhaps Vietnam wasn't the first time the government lied to the general public."

"So why do you want to see this place?" B.A. asked.

"Looking for something," Hannibal answered.

They trudged through the dirt and the weeds and finally came up to the three crosses. Three wooden crosses that stood four feet high, they'd been varnished and lacquered to protect against the elements. Hannibal crouched down to read the names on the crosses, on the left one it said Vice Admiral John Phillips, the one on the right said Rear Admiral David Robbins, and the one in the middle shocked both men who read it: Lieutenant Commander John Smith.

"It's the Twilight Zone," Hannibal quietly murmured under his breath.

"You know something about this, Hannibal?" B.A. asked.

"I come from a long line of John Smiths in my family, I had a cousin in the Navy, he disappeared back in 1962, the official word was 'lost at sea', we didn't have any reason not to believe it…" he looked at the cross and shook his head, "But I sure never thought he'd have it in him to pull a stunt like this."

B.A. got a sudden feeling that it would be better if he was somewhere else, so he slowly stepped back and inched away from Hannibal, but decided to stay close by incase the colonel needed him.

20 years of thinking his cousin dead, only to find out he came to this island and died there instead, and only a few years ago. It was a lot to process, but for the moment, the only thing Hannibal could think to say was, "Thanks for supplying our land way, cousin."

B.A. could hear Hannibal talking to the grave marker but he couldn't hear what the colonel was saying, just as well. After a few minutes, Hannibal got up and doubled back the way they had come.

"What now, Hannibal?" he asked.

"You heard Sheila, there's no extradition from here back to America, and no way to contact anybody back home either, meaning if we're going to hand Masterson over to the authorities, we're going to have to toss him in the plane with us when we go back," Hannibal said, "But first we have to catch him."

"That's no problem," B.A. said.

"No, but making sure we're not walking into an ambush is going to take a little more strategy," Hannibal reminded him.


"So explain to me how since you don't have any contact with anyone off this island, you're able to have all the supplies brought in to keep your hotel in business?" Face asked Sheila later that afternoon as he had originally caught her alone but quickly been joined by the three lunatics.

"I didn't say we don't have contact past the island," she corrected him, "I just said our phone service doesn't reach far enough to get anyone in America. We're able to get our orders off to the suppliers who bring in everything once a week by boat, anything that needs to be brought over from America is loaded up and exported from Florida."

"Makes sense," Face said, "They're the closest to this place as far as the U.S. goes."

Murdock had found one of the hotel menus and was reading over everything on it, mouthing the words as he went down the list, trying to decide if anything sounded good or not.

"What's the difference in a plantain banana and a regular banana?" he asked.

"Plantains are cooking bananas," Sheila told him, "The ones you're accustomed to are referred to as dessert bananas."

"How's that?" Face asked.

"She means the plantains ain't got any taste to them," Frankie spoke up, "I had one once, you have to fry them or grill them or do something with them, you can eat them raw but it ain't recommended."

"How reassuring," Face dryly remarked, "Does cooking them improve the taste?"

"Not by much," Frankie offered.

Face glared at her but she didn't seem to notice and instead read over Murdock's shoulder.

"Hey Facey," Murdock said once Sheila left to tend to some other guests checking into the hotel, "You think it's a good idea to get involved with the help? You stand her up and she could cut off our room service."

"Oh don't worry, Murdock, I'm not interested in her," Face told him.

"Right, which is why you've been hanging on her every word since we came down here, right?" Frankie asked coyly.

"It just so happens," Face told Murdock, "That I've got a date with a woman tonight, and it's someone staying in this hotel on the 5th floor."

"How cozy," Frankie commented.

Face turned to face her and said, "Frankie."

"What?" she looked over to him.

"Zip it," he told her.

Frankie waited until Face also left the room, and she went over to Murdock and told him, "I've got to get out of this hotel."

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"I've got to get into the city and check on something," Frankie said, "You can cover for me, can't you?"

"Now wait just a minute," Murdock said as he jerked her back by her sleeve, "You can't just take off and leave me holding the bag, or any of us for that matter, the only way you're leaving this place is with an escort."

"Okay," Frankie shrugged his hand off of her and after a short pause she asked him, "Who?"

"Who? Well look, Face can stay with Mad Dog up in the room, I'll go with you, I can blend right into this place."

"Sure, an island full of bananas and nuts, you fit just fine," Frankie sarcastically noted.

"I'll leave a note for Hannibal and then we'll go," he said, "But where're we going?"

"Well, you probably won't like it," Frankie told him.


They left the hotel and walked until they reached the city limits and then got a ride on a bus that had been given a convertible treatment and had no roof so they could see everything around them and above them. They stopped off somewhere in the middle of the city and Murdock followed Frankie until she came to a stop outside one particular building. He read the sign and did a double take, "A beauty parlor?"

Frankie didn't say anything and just went in. Before they'd left she had opened the minibar in their room and helped herself to a few drinks and was already a bit tipsy. However, she wasn't drunk and when she did talk she was still largely coherent and lucid, all the same Murdock made sure he wasn't more than a couple feet away from her during their whole trip away from the hotel.

"Why'd we come here of all places?" Murdock asked Frankie as they stepped into the building.

"I'm getting my hair done," she said with a slur, "I chopped it off, it finally started to grow back, but this ain't my color…I want to feel like myself again so I'm going to look like myself again."

"Okay, shall we try that again in English or don't you speak that?" Murdock asked as he followed her over to a set of empty chairs and sat down beside her.

"I was born a redhead," Frankie explained as she grabbed a handful of her blonde hair and held it up, "This is a dye job…until it comes out I want another dye job to make me look like my old self again. Masterson," she practically shouted, and then put a finger to her lips and went 'shhhh' to Murdock and whispered, "Masterson most recently remembers me as a blonde, so it stands to reason first of all he won't be expecting me here anyway, and secondly he won't be expecting me to be going back to my original roots," she laughed at her joke.

One of the women who worked at the parlor came up to them and asked Murdock as she snapped on a latex glove, "What'll it be, sweetheart?"

Murdock did another double take and about fell out of his chair as he explained to the woman, "Not me, her!"

"I want to be a redhead again," Frankie told the woman, "I used to have really red hair like that one rock star…oh, what was his name?"

"Cyndi Lauper?" Murdock suggested.

"No no no, that's not it," Frankie shook her head, "I know, it was Ziggy Stardust."

"That," Murdock corrected her, "Was David Bowie."

"Yeah that, that's what I want to look like," Frankie told the woman, "You got any of that red hot red peroxide here?"

The woman restrained from laughing and said, "I'll see what we can do."


"Hey, where's Murdock?" Face asked Hannibal and B.A. when he and Mad Dog went downstairs and found the two men in the lobby looking over a piece of paper.

"And where's Frankie?" Mad Dog added.

"I don't know," Hannibal said, "They weren't here when we got back, it looks like Murdock left us a note."

"Well what's it say?" Face asked.

Hannibal turned the note upside down, to the side, and then right side up again and said, "I'm not sure."

"Let me see," Face grabbed it, "I think I'm getting to be an expert on his handwriting after all these…" Face read over the note a couple of times and his lips started moving to match what he was reading, and on the fourth try sound started coming out, but instead he looked back to the colonel and asked, "Hannibal, what the hell is this?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Hannibal said, "It looks like he wrote 'Going Chinese, barbecue sweet'."

"That can't be right," Face said as he looked over the note again, "I think he wrote 'Getting chickenpox, boil bed sheets'."

B.A. snatched the note from him and said, "It says 'Gone crazy'."

"It doesn't say that, B.A.," Face told him.

B.A. turned to him and said, "It ought to, it's true."

"This is worse than playing telephone," Face grumbled.

"It says 'Gone to city, be back soon'," Murdock said as he and Frankie stepped in the hotel's revolving door.

"Well how about that? Murdock you ought to be a doctor, your handwriting's lousy enough for the job," Face said.

"Don't give him any ideas, Face," B.A. warned him.

"Hey," Hannibal said as he saw Frankie, now a new fiery redhead, "What happened to you?"

"When we find Masterson, I want him to think he's seeing ghosts," was her only explanation.

"I don't believe it," Face said, he turned to Murdock and asked him, "Were you a part of this?"

"I guess you could say that," Murdock said.

Face noticed that Murdock had his ball cap pulled down tighter than usual and tried to grab it to see why, but Murdock took a step back from him and kept it pressed down tight.

"What's wrong, Murdock?" Hannibal asked.

Murdock looked at the others and let out a sigh and removed his cap.

Face felt his eyes grow wide as he asked, "What happened to your hair?"

Murdock smiled sheepishly as if trying to come up with some way to possibly justify his new look and said only, "I think it looks good."

"He told them to lighten it up a bit, he wanted to see how he'd look as a blonde," Frankie explained, "After that he asked them to do something with it to give it a little body, so…I don't know what they did but they managed to give it a little wave."

"Man ain't right, Hannibal," B.A. groaned.

"Well it still beats the alternative," Frankie said, "As I told him, people with alopecia have a hair wave all their own."

"They do?" Face asked.

"Yeah," Frankie waved, "Bye-bye."

Face groaned and murmured to B.A., "Never mind Murdock, if there's one thing I can't stand it's a comedian."

"So where do we stand currently, Hannibal?" Murdock asked, "Any sign of this slime ball Masterson yet?"

"Not yet," Hannibal said, "He's either locked in his room or out in the city somewhere."

"Well we didn't see him," Murdock said.

"Well," Hannibal's gaze turned towards the ceiling and said, "There's got to be a way to get into his room and find out."

"Watch it," Murdock told the others as he looked at Hannibal, "The man's thinking."

"Now we're in trouble," Frankie said.


Hannibal managed to catch Sheila alone when she was on her break and he asked her, "Did you know the men who came here on the carrier?"

"I met them once," she said, "I was little at the time. They seemed like nice men."

"When did they die?" Hannibal asked.

"I really can't remember," she said, "Two of them died when I was still a kid, but the third one, Mr. Smith, he died back in 1978."

"You won't believe it," Hannibal told her, "But I think he was my cousin, I'd always heard how he drowned at sea, he was never found."

Sheila's eyes widened slightly at this revelation and she said, "I'm terribly sorry."

"When did you start working at the hotel?" he asked.

"About four years ago, right after Mr. Smith died," Sheila answered, "He lived at this hotel for several years, he was one of the 'celebrity' guests here."

Hannibal had a sneaking suspicion that he was starting to get onto something and he asked Sheila, "Which room did he stay in?"

"Room 16B on the second floor," Sheila said.

"Would it be possible for me to see it?" he asked, "I'd like to see where my ol' cousin spent his final years."

"Well that room is occupied right now," she said, "By a Mister Richard Masterson."

"Is he expected to check out anytime soon?" Hannibal asked.

"No, he's a regular around here, comes in every couple of months, stays a couple weeks, and he just got here a couple days ago," Sheila said, "But I do believe he's out at the moment, I can get the spare key and he wouldn't have to know."

"Oh that would be just fine," Hannibal told her.

It had been a good cover story where he was concerned, but there had been truth in it; granted the hotel room didn't appear to be any different than their own rooms, but knowing that this was where his cousin had lived for so long…he couldn't describe it, but he felt a sense of satisfaction as he stood in the room and looked at the furniture and décor. The vibe he was getting sure as hell wasn't coming from knowing Masterson was occupying this room, but for one person anyway, he could feel an air of peace in the room. He had to laugh, peace, the single most offensive word in the English language during the time of the Vietnam War, and leave it to his cousin, he just had to go and do the unpopular thing five years before it became popular to be hated for peace. For whatever reason, for better or worse, he went against orders and completely ruined whatever plans the boys in Washington had in mind for that carrier and all the aircraft it was supposed to move across the ocean. He had done what he thought was right, and a horrible price had still been paid at the lives of the crew who hadn't survived the storm. But, Hannibal realized, perhaps it was still a lesser price than what would've happened if the men involved had just blindly followed orders. He knew only too well how easy those could just blow up in your face, he'd been hunted by the Army and government for 10 years because he and his men had done what they were told.

He kept his mind on the work at hand and the reason he had come here. When Sheila wasn't looking, Hannibal planted a bug in the phone so they'd be able to pick up on any conversations Masterson had while he was on the island. He didn't bother with bugging the room in general, he really wasn't under the impression that this was a very popular man who would have any friends come back here with him.

"Thanks for letting me have a look around," he told Sheila when they left the room, "I really got a good feeling being in there."

And now they just had to wait for the spider to reenter his own lair.