Chapter 11
Warnings: Mild violence
See chapter 1 for disclaimers and further information.
A/N – Here's a nice long one for you folks. I couldn't figure out how to break it up without ruining the sequence and now you have a nice cliffie to keep you entertained as well. Enjoy.
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Face stood next to the window in their hotel room and twitched aside the curtain. Hannibal and BA had been gone for over an hour on a scouting mission to scope out the entrance to Clemente's place. He hoped they got back soon. He was getting tired of waiting. It was time to move.
A small grunt from behind him made him turn. Murdock was seated on the edge of the bed, putting his shoes on. The pilot was wearing a pair khaki pants and a plain black sweater that Face had brought with him from LA. The conman had even thought to bring along a dark blue baseball cap that he had bought for his friend since the old one had been destroyed with the VA.
Murdock had been overjoyed to get rid of the pale gray uniform and had been delighted with the cap, immediately using it to cover his receding hairline. The only thing missing from the ensemble was the familiar leather jacket that Clemente had taken.
Face watched his friend struggle with his shoelaces for a moment before asking quietly, "Murdock, why do you have to do this?" The pilot froze, not looking at him, and Face continued. "You should be in a hospital or at least in a bed for a couple more days, not following one of Hannibal's hair brained schemes in the front door."
He still did not understand why the colonel had agreed the night before last when Murdock had insisted on being included in Hannibal's plan. The pilot had clearly not been well, barely able to sit up on his own. The day spent in bed while the others dug up information on Clemente's operation had helped a little, but Murdock still looked as though he should be flat on his back.
Murdock straightened his shoulders before turning to face his best friend with a shrug, a slight smile crossing his face. "Why not?" he asked casually in an obvious attempt to downplay his friend's concern.
When Face only glared in response, Murdock turned away, shifting uncomfortably. After a moment, he spoke quietly. "All the while I was with Clemente, the biggest thing they stressed was 'Don't bother to fight. It's not worth it.'"
He paused, looking down at his shoes. "After my first escape attempt failed..." He closed his eyes and a muscle in his jaw jumped a few times before he continued. "I began to believe them. I figured you guys thought I was dead, and since there was no way to let you know otherwise, the easiest thing to do was give up and not fight anymore."
Taking a deep breath, Murdock levered himself to his feet and walked over to the bathroom where he looked at his face in the mirror. Rubbing the stubble on his chin, he turned slightly. "Face, do you have a..."
The conman walked over to the foot of the bed and hunted through his bag. Locating the razor and shaving cream, he handed them to the pilot.
"Thanks," Murdock said, using the cream to lather his face. Grabbing the razor, he stood there for a moment, looking at his reflection in the mirror. "You know what it was that convinced me to keep fighting?"
Face shook his head wordlessly, and the pilot shaved for a few minutes before continuing. "I had a dream, the night before I escaped and found you guys." Pausing to rinse the razor, he smiled slightly. "You were with me in this strange room, and you kept telling me to fight, to not give up."
Face felt something jump in his stomach. It couldn't be. It was flat impossible, but before he knew it, the words were out of his mouth. "Were you building a brick wall?"
Murdock turned, the razor half raised, surprise on his face. The two friends eyed each other for a few moments before Murdock's lips twitched upward into a smile. A maniacal gleam suddenly appeared in his eyes. "Now you gotta believe in ESP," he said, grinning wickedly, specks of lather still clinging to his cheeks.
Suddenly he squeezed his eyes shut. "Concentrate, Face. What am I thinking?"
Face laughed as he moved over to sit on one of the beds. It was nice to see Murdock acting normal. He had been way too serious since waking up.
"C'mon, Faceman. Guess. What am I thinking about?"
"You are wondering how you can use this to distract me from my original question," Face replied, his lips still twitching with laughter.
"It works," Murdock breathed, looking skyward with a look of awe on his face.
Forcing away the laughter, Face said sternly, "Seriously, Murdock."
Murdock sighed and turned around to face the mirror again. For several long moments, he said nothing, studying his reflection as if trying to understand his own reasoning. Finally, he began to speak once more, haltingly, as if uncertain where he was going.
"After I had that dream, I kept hearing you talking to me, telling me not to give up, not to stop fighting...not to fail. Eventually I listened just to get you to shut up." He shrugged and gave a small laugh.
Face studied the floor in silence for a moment as he tried to comprehend what his friend was telling him. Finally, he pushed the thoughts away and concentrated on directing the conversation back to safer ground less troubled by his still roiling emotions.
"That still doesn't explain why you are doing this. We'll take care of Clemente. You don't ever have to go near him again." He paused and swallowed hard before adding, "I don't think you should."
Murdock sighed. Scraping the last of the hair from beneath his chin, he turned on the water and rinsed the razor thoroughly. Washing the excess cream off his face, he grabbed the towel and used it to wipe his face dry. Throwing it down, he turned to face his friend and leaned against the counter.
"It's just something I've gotta do, Faceman. Clemente took something important from me, and I intend to get it back."
"Your jacket?" Face asked, confused. "We can find that just as easily as you and bring it back to you."
"Well, that too," Murdock said absently, staring off into space. "But I was talking about something more important." Murdock turned piercing brown eyes to meet his friend's blue ones. "You don't understand. I have a score to settle with Clemente, and it's payback time." There was a hard intensity in Murdock's voice that Face had not heard in a long time…since 'Nam, in fact.
Slowly, he nodded. He thought he understood what Murdock was talking about. He knew what it was like to have his self-respect stripped away by another. He also understood how important it was to confront the one responsible for doing that.
Sighing, he got up and moved back to the window. He wouldn't fight it anymore, but he was determined to protect his friend and make sure he wasn't hurt by Clemente ever again.
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Dusk was falling over the Canadian countryside as a battered figure struggled up the road to the gate guarding the entrance to Alexandre Clemente's Private Game Preserve and Research Center. His shirt was torn, and he was holding a bloodstained handkerchief to his face. Startled, the two guards on duty left the guard house to meet the dusty figure.
"Please, help me," the man mumbled into the handkerchief, stumbling and almost falling. One of the guards grabbed his arm and helped him regain his balance. "We've had a terrible accident down on the main road. I think my wife is dying. Please...I need a phone to call for help."
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BA watched from the darkness of the trees as the conman disappeared with the two guards into the guardhouse. A rustling beside him drew his attention, and he frowned in irritation. Hannibal had told the pilot to stay back with the van until they returned. Murdock moved up beside the big sergeant and gave him a grin. BA simply scowled in return.
As the captain settled in beside him, BA took the opportunity to study the lanky form. Murdock's face was still unusually pale, even in the darkness, but otherwise he looked all right.
BA didn't claim to fully understand his friend's motivation in coming, but if Hannibal thought it was okay, he wouldn't fight it. Curiously enough, although Face had initially argued fiercely against the pilot's presence, he must have changed his mind, for he hadn't said anything about it when BA and Hannibal had returned from their scouting mission.
If neither Face nor Hannibal were prepared to stop the captain from coming, he wasn't going to make a fuss. However, he remembered the look in Hannibal's eyes as they had discussed the plan prior to returning to the hotel room.
The colonel had matter of factly told BA that he was going to place Murdock and him together during the attack, only his eyes showing his concern. The underlying request was obvious, and BA understood. He was the best person to look out for the pilot.
His jaw clenched. He couldn't wait to find the ones who had hurt his friend so he could make them pay.
Murdock must have felt BA's eyes on him. He turned and gave the sergeant a smile and a thumbs up. BA shook his head, but couldn't keep the smile from his face. He had to admit that it was nice to have the fun-loving Texan back even if the man insisted on risking his fool neck. The smile quickly returned to a scowl.
His attention snapped back to the gate as it slowly began to swing open. Touching Murdock lightly on the shoulder, he moved back down to the curve in the road where they had stashed the van. He heard the pilot moving behind him, and across the road, Hannibal appeared from the underbrush. The colonel moved silently over to join them, giving the pilot a sharp look before opening the passenger side door. He didn't say anything, however, and Murdock climbed into the back, leaving the sliding door open for Face.
Getting in the driver's side of his beloved van, BA started her up, listening to the quiet purr of the engine that barely disturbed the night around them. When his companions were in, he pulled smoothly out onto the road and past the guardhouse. The gates swung silently shut behind him, and he stopped the van long enough for Face to race out and get in.
"They'll sleep like babies until the next shift finds them," the conman stated with a smug smile as he pulled the sliding door shut.
Hannibal grinned back at his second in command. "Nice, Face. That means we've got about two hours, guys." Sitting back in his seat, the colonel pulled out his black gloves and put them on. "Murdock, do you know how far it is to the main house?"
Murdock shook his head. "I've never been on this road. When I ran cross country, I'd guess it was about fifteen-twenty miles to the fence, but the main house should be closer to the perimeter fence than any other point. From the air, I calculated about ten miles or so, heavy woods all the way."
"Good," Hannibal replied, eyeing the road ahead. "BA, take us about seven miles, then look for a place to hide the van. We'll go the rest of the way on foot."
BA nodded, keeping his eyes on the trees along the side of the road. About fifteen minutes later, he found what he was looking for and pulled the van off into a small clearing, barely visible from the road. The Team exited the van and began to cover it with underbrush. It wasn't necessary to do too much since it was dark and the van's color would make it difficult to see.
A few minutes later, they had collected their guns and supplies from the back of the van and were ready to go.
"De ja vu," Murdock whispered with a sigh. Hannibal gave the pilot a sympathetic look before giving them the order to move out. Face moved forward to take the point. After a few seconds, Hannibal motioned for BA and Murdock to follow, while he took rear guard.
They moved along in silence for about twenty minutes, flitting like ghosts through the woods to the side of the road. BA could barely see the slight form of Face moving quickly through the trees ahead. Only the moonlight betrayed him, occasionally shining through the thick foliage to sparkle on the conman's hair.
Glancing over at his companion, BA noticed the pilot lagging and slowed to a stop. Murdock waved a hand that he was all right, but he bent over, one hand on his knee, his breath coming in short gasps. Moments later, Hannibal caught up with them.
As Murdock straightened, the colonel looked him over carefully. "Can you make it? It's not too late to go back to the van."
Murdock shook his head, a determined fire in his eyes. "I will make it," he said quietly. "I'm okay, just a bit weaker than I thought, 's all." Hannibal studied him some more before nodding and motioning for them to get moving.
Ten minutes later, they rounded a bend and came in sight of the house. A familiar bird call sounded from deeper in the underbrush, and they moved over to join Face.
Murdock had described the mansion and the other buildings on the grounds as much as he could from flying over them, but the only building he had seen on the ground was the hangar. The one exception was the torture chamber, but as he had entered and left the place unconscious, he had no idea where it was.
"Well, guys, we're going into this blind," Hannibal said quietly. "It looks like the trees end about 500 yards from the house." Murdock nodded agreement as Hannibal continued. "I want us to split up and approach the house from different directions. Disable any guards and alarms you find as quietly as possible. I'd rather find Clemente before he has a clue we're here."
All three men nodded understanding, and Hannibal turned to Murdock. "Captain, I want you to stick with BA." Murdock opened his mouth to protest, but Hannibal rode over him. "I know you believe you are ready for a fist or firefight, and you may well be." There was a hint of doubt in his voice, but it disappeared as he continued. "But I would rather you didn't have to find out until absolutely necessary."
Murdock looked at Hannibal silently for a moment before nodding agreement and turning away. BA was rather surprised. He had expected the pilot to put up more of an argument, and the fact that he had given in so quickly worried him. From the looks on the faces of Hannibal and Face, it worried them too, but Hannibal gave the signal and they all moved out.
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Hannibal crept silently around the left side of the house, moving from shadow to shadow. There was plenty of shrubbery around, making it fairly easy to maneuver undetected.
Suddenly, he froze. Straining his ears, he heard the murmur of voices from around the next corner. Keeping close to the wall, he slithered up to the very edge and peered carefully around it. Two men, probably security guards, leaned against the wall next to a door, drinking coffee and enjoying the cool night air.
'Careless,' Hannibal thought with a grim smile. Neither man was paying any attention to their surroundings. Plainly they did not expect any attack, safe in the giant house's security cocoon.
The breeze shifted, and suddenly, Hannibal could hear their voices more clearly.
"...has been stomping around in a rage since we lost him," the first voice murmured.
"I know," the second guard replied. "I've been doing my best to steer clear of him. Probably wouldn't take much for him to turn one of us over to his pet torture monger."
"Only if he doesn't use those dandy tools on Forbes himself. He's furious at Forbes 'cause he was supposed to have broken that pilot."
"Yeah, Plankton's been having to lie low, too. I heard he guaranteed Captain Murdock wasn't going to rebel ever again." There was the sound of low laughter at this.
Hannibal gave a smug smile. Apparently, Clemente was still steaming over losing Murdock. That was good. An angry mark never thinks straight.
"Want a cigarette?" the first guard asked. There was a murmur of agreement. Hannibal peered around the corner again. The guard closest to him had his back turned, lighting a cigarette in the mouth of his companion.
Hannibal took advantage of the distraction. He whipped around the corner, bringing his gun up simultaneously. The guard facing him jumped and dropped the cigarette. His companion started to turn, but it was too late.
Hannibal brought the butt of the gun down on the neck of the guard nearest him, dropping him instantly. In the same fluid motion, he pivoted slightly and raised his gun to cover the second guard, who stood staring at him in shock.
"Say one word and I fire," Hannibal warned in a low voice. The guard nodded mutely, raising his hands away from his body. Hannibal moved close enough to grab the gun from the guard's belt. Moving back a few feet, he reached into his pocket for a ball of thin but strong strips of rope which he tossed to the startled guard.
"Tie up your friend, and make it good and tight," Hannibal ordered. The guard nodded and complied. When he stood up again, the colonel knelt, careful not to let his eyes leave the guard, and tested the bonds. Satisfied, he stood and stepped back.
"Okay, drag him over there and hide him in the bushes." He gestured at a clump of shrubbery near the door. Grunting softly, the guard obeyed.
"All right," Hannibal said, giving the man a brilliant smile. "You're going to take me to the guard room where you monitor all of the security cameras." Keeping the gun trained on the guard, he watched as the man withdrew a ring of keys and unlocked the door.
They walked through several empty hallways and rooms, avoiding a number of security cameras before the guard paused at a door.
"In there?" Hannibal whispered, eyeing the unobtrusive doorway almost hidden in an alcove. "How many guards are usually on duty in there at once?" The guard hesitated. Hannibal raised the gun slightly. "Listen, pal. You cooperate, you get out of this without a scratch. Understand?"
The guard nodded, whispering breathlessly, "Two. There are always two guards on duty in there. Tommy and I just got off duty."
Hannibal smiled. Perfect. He had been hoping the shift changes he and BA had observed at the gate would be consistent throughout the compound. With a jerk of his head, he ordered the guard to open the door.
Holding the gun to the man's back, the two entered the room. A pair of guards sat chatting in front of two large banks of monitors. The remains of donuts and coffee sat in front of them. When the door opened, they both swung around in their chairs.
"George. What are you..." The speaker cut off as he noticed Hannibal, and, more importantly, the gun. Hannibal smiled brightly as both guards raised their hands.
Very shortly, all three men were bound and gagged with their handkerchiefs along one edge of the wall. Looking around, Hannibal noticed another door along the wall near one of the banks of monitors.
Jerking the gag off of the first guard he had captured, he gestured at the door with his gun. "Where does that go?"
The guard looked at his companions fearfully before replying. "It's another security room. The Padrone has the compound divided into several independent security zones, but occasionally he has the cameras from a particular zone feed directly into that room."
"Is anyone in there?"
"No," the guard said, shaking his head. "Cle...I mean, the Padrone is the only one who uses it, and sometimes Plankton."
"The chief of security?" Hannibal asked idly, eyeing the door.
The guard nodded and Hannibal replaced the gag before walking to the door. Turning the knob, he carefully opened it, gun ready. However, the room was dark. Feeling along the wall, he found the light switch and turned it on.
It was just as the guard had said. The room was almost entirely bare except for a small bank of monitors and a couple chairs. It was empty and all the screens were blank, so Hannibal switched off the light and moved over to examine the two larger banks of monitors in the main room.
One set seemed to be devoted entirely to the grounds outside the mansion, concentrating mostly on main entrances and heavy traffic areas. As he looked down the row of screens, he felt a brief surge of satisfaction. His men had to be entering the complex right about now, but none of the extraordinary number of cameras showed anything out of the ordinary. He'd have to remember to commend them when they got out of this.
Moving to the other bank of monitors, he saw that they covered the interior of the mansion. He located the kitchen, the dining room, library, several offices, including one large one that probably belonged to Clemente. He studied that last one carefully. It was pretty much dark, and there was no movement. The camera next to it panned back and forth in the hallway outside what looked like the same ornate door.
Moving on, he found a room that made his eyes narrow. The dimly lit walls were hung with all sorts of torture paraphernalia. Cabinets with glass doors displayed some of the smaller items. In the center of the room was what looked like an operating table. On it were spread a variety of bottles filled with different color liquids.
A man in a white lab coat, gloves and safety glasses was carefully mixing the substances and taking notes. 'Probably Forbes,' he thought with pursed lips. The man's description matched what Murdock had told them. He felt anger burning inside, but he pushed it aside. He would go back for him later. Right now, he needed to find...
"Ah ha," he murmured, pleased. "Here you are." The last set of cameras focused on the inside and outside of a bedroom in which an old man lay sleeping. He watched the screen for a few moments, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a stick of chewing gum.
He grimaced at it before unwrapping it and sticking it in his mouth. He didn't usually chew gum, but the look on his lieutenant's face when he had asked for some had been priceless. He couldn't help grinning at the memory.
The grin widened as he noticed that a blueprint of the mansion with the location of every security camera had been posted between the banks of monitors.
He studied the map for a few moments. Then, taking note of the location of Clemente's room, he turned to the guards and withdrew a bottle and a cloth. Wetting the cloth filled the room with a pungent smell.
"Sorry guys," Hannibal said apologetically before slapping the cloth over the nose of the first guard. "I can't afford the possibility you might work free before I'm done here."
When all the guards lay unconscious on the floor, Hannibal slipped out of the room, locking it behind him. Looking around him, he grinned as he pulled the gum out of his mouth and jammed it into the keyhole.
"I've always wanted to do that," he said with a chuckle before moving off down the hallway in search of his quarry.
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Face cracked open the door at the top of the servant's staircase he had located in the kitchen. The stairs opened into a large hallway on the second floor. Seeing no security cameras, he moved quickly down the hall, briefly noting the expensive paintings and rich pottery displays that lined the walls, not to mention the thick, luxurious carpeting that muffled the sounds of his footsteps.
Approaching a corner, he peered around it, noting the camera mounted high on the wall next to him. His eyes went to the large, ornately carved door it guarded. He smiled as he noticed the old fashioned lock on the door. It shouldn't take him two seconds to open that.
Pulling out his lock picks, he considered the door. There was a good possibility that it led into Clemente's room, and he loosened his gun in its shoulder holster just in case.
As the camera turned away, he raced forward, picked the lock and slipped inside the room in eight seconds flat. He grinned to himself. Hannibal would be proud.
He froze as he noticed the second camera that patrolled the inside of what he now saw was a large office including a small library and a sitting area. The camera was slowly panning towards him, and he dove quickly behind the large desk in the center of the room.
He frowned in annoyance. What kind of person used cameras on both the inside and outside of rooms? This would not make things very easy.
Barely sticking an eye above the edge of the desk, he watched the camera pan back and forth, noting its speed and rhythm.
He guessed that he was in Clemente's office. Not exactly what he wanted, but perhaps useful nonetheless. When he felt certain of the camera's movements, he began to search the office. It was like a tricky sort of dance, search and duck, and it prevented any sort of thorough search. However, he quickly hit pay dirt - a safe conveniently located below the desk and out of sight of the camera.
'Not too smart, are you,' he thought dryly. 'What's the point of a security camera if your most precious papers and possessions can be accessed without it seeing?' Shaking his head, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a small listening device specially designed for cracking safes.
Within moments, the safe had been cracked and he was pulling out documents of all shapes and sizes. Sorting through them quickly, he noticed that most seemed to be detailed financial reports.
On the top of the stack, however, was a small leather bound book. Opening it, he flipped through a couple of pages before his eyes widened and he sucked in a startled breath.
It appeared to be a journal - Clemente's journal. What was so shocking was the fact that it recorded, in detail, the kidnapping and subsequent 'taming' of Murdock and several other men and women, some of whom had died under his treatment.
He was so absorbed in the journal, that he almost didn't hear the slight squeak as the office door opened. Cursing silently to himself, he pressed his back against the wood of the desk. Glancing down at the safe, he noticed the tiny wires dangling from the hinges. Silent alarm. He closed his eyes in dismay. How could he have been so stupid?
He touched the gun in his holster, but quickly discarded that idea. A shootout with a security guard would only bring half the house down on him. Maybe he could bluff his way out of this.
The footsteps rounded the desk, and Face saw the gun first as the man holding it swung into view. The conman grinned brightly at the man's angry brown eyes.
"Get up," the man barked. He didn't seem to be a guard, the uniform was not quite the same. Of course, that didn't really matter. At the moment, he was the one pointing the gun. Shrugging, Face got to his feet.
"Who are you, and what are you doing here?"
Face raised his eyebrows innocently. "Would you believe Prince Charming? I seem to have lost my girlfriend's glass slipper and I was hoping I could find it here." He almost laughed at the mixed look of confusion and anger on the other's face.
"Put your hands up," the man barked impatiently. Shrugging again, Face complied, looking around the office.
"Nice place you've got here. Does it belong to you?" This guy was definitely too young to be Clemente. Murdock had described him as older than Hannibal. While maintaining the facade of casual indifference, Face watched the man carefully as he shifted the gun to one hand and reached forward to take the weapon out of the conman's holster.
"Never you mind who..." The man gave a startled yelp as, quick as lightning, Face grabbed the wrist with the gun, twisting as he did so. Almost before the man knew anything had happened, his arm was twisted up behind his back, and the gun had fallen from nerveless fingers.
Face neatly caught the falling weapon and pressed it hard into the man's side while retaining pressure on the arm. "Now why don't you tell me who you are?" he growled softly.
"Plankton, Howard Plankton. I'm the chief of security," the man gasped out, rising on his toes to ease the pressure on his shoulder and arm.
"Very well, Howard," Face said lightly. "Why don't you give me your other hand?" Pocketing the gun, he pulled out a strip of nylon rope and bound Plankton's arms and wrists tightly behind him.
"You won't get away with this," Plankton observed nastily. "That security camera is recording everything we are doing. In minutes this place is going to be crawling with my men."
"Well," Face said, grabbing the pile of papers on the floor and gesturing toward the door to the office. "Why don't we get out of here before they have a chance to spoil the fun? Remember, if you call out or make a sound, I'll kill you." Plankton nodded and moved obediently for the door.
As Face moved to follow, his eye was caught by an open box under some book shelves, out of which a very familiar piece of brown leather peeked out. Hissing at Plankton to stop, Face edged sideways to the box, still keeping his eyes on the security chief.
He saw that the box was filled with the personal belongings of people, each neatly tagged and labeled. Murdock's jacket was on top as though someone had pulled it out to look at and had carelessly tossed it back inside without bothering to close the box.
Tucking the files and papers under the arm with the gun, he grabbed the jacket and gestured for Plankton to leave the room. Part of him was surprised that no guards had shown up yet, but he decided not to dwell on his good fortune.
Instead, he spoke to Plankton's back. "Now, I think we need to pay a visit to your master."
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Murdock and BA had worked their way around to the back of the house and had slipped in that way. They had run into a few guards along this route, but BA had dealt with them swiftly and silently. Most were now stuffed in various closets and dark rooms, bound, gagged, and unconscious. The worst was the various security cameras that they had to dodge.
BA wanted to head to the center of the house and up a couple of stories where he felt sure they would find Clemente, but they were forced to make their way through back hallways in search of a stairway up that would be less guarded.
They were now huddled together at a corner, eyeing a camera that was obviously guarding a room in the far rear corner of the south part of the house, near the kitchens. The corridors around them were empty and bare of the rich furnishings they had seen in the rest of the house. It did not look as though this area was heavily travelled, so the presence of the security camera was confusing.
BA was about to suggest they backtrack and take another route, when a man rounded a corner on the opposite side of the security camera. He was dressed in a white lab coat and was carrying a mug of what looked like coffee. Fumbling in his pocket for a key, the man proceeded to unlock the door and enter the room.
As soon as Murdock saw the man, his body went rigid. BA looked at his friend with concern. Murdock was as pale as a ghost, but there was a gleaming intensity in his normally soft brown eyes that was getting stronger every second.
"Murdock?" BA whispered, laying a hand on the pilot's shoulder.
Murdock jumped and turned to face BA completely. The big sergeant was startled by the wild look of fury and hatred that suddenly consumed the captain's normally gentle features.
Before BA could stop him, Murdock was up and running toward the door. Cursing softly, the big man raced after him. Following his friend in the door, he barely had time to register his surroundings as Murdock flung himself across the room onto the tiny man with the pinched features.
The man squealed, but Murdock did not make a sound as he repeatedly slammed his fist into the man's stomach and face. BA reached him just as he had grabbed the man's head and was preparing to slam it against the floor, probably with a force that could kill him.
"Murdock, no!" BA cried, grabbing the pilot's arms. The captain struggled wildly in BA's grip for a moment before slumping to the floor in exhaustion. BA checked the bloody and battered face of the man on the floor long enough to see that he was still breathing.
Then he knelt next to his friend's trembling form and gathered him close. BA was not a man that enjoyed physical contact, but somehow, he knew that was what Murdock needed right now. During the camps, they had comforted each other in this manner, and BA sensed that this situation was not that different.
The pilot's body was trembling violently. BA rocked slowly, murmuring soothing sounds in an attempt to calm Murdock down. After a moment, he felt the smaller man's hands grab the sides of his shirt, twisting the cloth with the force of his grip.
As they rocked, BA looked around the room at the horrible implements on the walls and in the cabinets. Suddenly, he knew who the man was that Murdock had attacked and why the pilot had done so.
He felt the anger building up in him, and he realized he actually regretted stopping Murdock when he did. Part of him wanted to get up and teach the man some BA Baracus justice, but that would have meant letting go of the pilot, and he was not about to do that.
Turning his head away from the still form of the torturer, his eyes caught sight of a security camera mounted in the corner of the room opposite them. He groaned inwardly. Even if they had missed seeing them from the camera in the hall, they could not miss them now.
He did not know why there weren't guards crawling all over the place by now, but he knew he needed to get Murdock out of there as much for the pilot's sake as for the fear of being caught.
He realized that Murdock's trembling had slowed and his breathing sounded calmer. When BA said his name gently, Murdock released his grip on the sergeant's shirt and leaned back.
Avoiding BA's eyes, he whispered, "I'm sorry. I guess I just lost control."
"It's okay, li'l brother," BA said quietly and Murdock looked at him in surprise. BA used that term for the children in his daycare centers and under rare circumstances for Face, but he had never called him that.
BA grinned at the look on the pilot's face. "I understand, okay." He directed Murdock's attention to the camera on the wall. "But we need to get out of here, or we'll be meeting Clemente in a way we ain't planned."
Murdock nodded and got up slowly, still trying to regain complete control. His eyes turned hard again as he studied the still form on the floor. "Forbes," he said bitterly. "He was the one who..."
"I know," BA interrupted, "But he's not the one we're after, remember?" He continued to speak in a tone he usually reserved for the children in the daycare center, the ones who were frightened or lonely. It seemed more appropriate at the moment than his usual growls.
Remarkably, Murdock responded to either the words or the tone and turned away from Forbes. He followed BA to the door, his eyes carefully glued to the floor. But suddenly he stopped.
BA turned, hoping he wasn't going to crack again, but Murdock was looking at him with a crafty smile.
"BA, I've got an idea," he said slowly. "Why go searching all over for Clemente and risk getting caught when we have someone right here who can lead us directly to him."
As if to punctuate the pilot's statement, a low groan sounded from across the room. BA slowly smiled, and the two walked back to wake their new tour guide, and, if necessary, hostage.
AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT
A chill breeze blowing through the glass veranda doors woke Alexandre Clemente from a pleasant dream in which he had the largest collections in the world and armies of servants to maintain them.
Rolling over, he tried to ignore the breeze, but finally, muttering curses, he laboriously got out of bed and went to close the doors. His memory must be getting worse, he decided. He could have sworn he had closed them before he went to bed.
As his hand rested on the latch, he froze, feeling the cold barrel of a gun pressing into the back of his neck.
"Move and all this nice furniture around us will need a thorough cleaning," a cold voice said from the darkness behind him. "But I don't think blood comes out very well, so I suggest you do exactly as I tell you."
TBC
A/N – And there you have it. I wonder who got there first and what Clemente plans to do about it.
