Hannibal and Face knew that there wasn't going to be any easy way around this, if they were going to get to the bottom of what happened back at the airport, they would have to confront both Mad Dog and Frankie at the same time, and at once. They went over to Murdock's room where they could hear several people talking, and saw that Murdock and B.A. were in there with them. Well, this was as 'perfect' as it was going to be. They walked in and Hannibal shut the door behind him and locked it, and this small gesture got the attention of the other four occupants of the room. The only way these two were getting out of this room now would be out the window.
"Hey Hannibal, what's up?" Murdock asked.
"Some very interesting reading material came over on the ship that delivered the hotel's food inventory for the week," Hannibal tossed the paper over towards the others and let them read it and he told them, "When we were getting boarded up on the plane to leave, somebody took it upon themselves to bash in the head of one of the MPs, and tried to shish-kabob Colonel Lynch." He looked at Mad Dog and Frankie and said, "You two can save your pleas of innocence for somebody who actually believes it, as far as I'm concerned you're both in plenty of trouble already. So I would suggest you make it easy on yourselves and come clean, we know one of you did it, so which one?"
Mad Dog and Frankie looked at each other, both of them looking like they would rather be anywhere but here right now.
"Well?" Hannibal asked firmly, making it clear he wasn't pussyfooting around.
Mad Dog took in a sharp huff of air and it seemed that he would be the first to speak, but Frankie beat him to it and said, "I did."
There had been certain times in the past few days when Frankie spoke on behalf of Murdoch and Hannibal got the impression that she was covering for him. But this wasn't one of those times, he could tell by watching her that she was telling the truth.
"Alright, that part was easy, now why did you do it?" Hannibal asked.
"Why did I do what?" Frankie asked, "We were ambushed, we had to get out of there, to do that we had to get the army off our backs."
"What did you do to that MP?" Hannibal wanted to know.
"I knocked his helmet off and hit him in the back of the head with a rock I found near the airstrip, but I only hit him once, that's all it took and he went down, and he was still moving when I left," Frankie explained, sounding just a bit anxious to prove her role wasn't as big as it was made out to be, "That's how we got the guns when you guys ran out of ammo, we knocked out the MP and stole his guns."
"What about Lynch?" Hannibal asked her point blank, "Why did you stab him?"
"I didn't plan to," Frankie told him, "I got in their car and I chased after him and several other men, they scattered, Lynch tripped and fell, I got out of the car, and I saw…" her hands were trying to speak for her as she absentmindedly clutched them together as if she grabbed something, "There was this metal spike on the ground, I guess it was a piece of debris from a wreck…all I could think of at the time was it looked like a bayonet, so I'd use it as one. I picked it up," her hands told the story faster than she did as she mimicked a reenactment, "And I stabbed him in the chest with it, and I drew it clear across his chest, he screamed, there was a lot of blood…blood…blood all over, it was darker, it looked more purple than red…but I've been told that the blood near the heart is like that. I knew that he couldn't possibly get up and come after us then, so I left, and I was walking back towards the plane, that's when you came up and got me." Frankie sounded near tears and also like she was about to throw up and she said, "I never stabbed anybody before, there was so much blood I just felt sick…but I knew we had to get out of there and fast before the others came for us, so I got up and left."
"And that's why you were screaming for the knockout pills," Face realized, "It wasn't because of the flight, it was because you couldn't deal with what you'd done."
"That's right," Frankie answered in a weak voice, "I figured a few hours of blissful unconsciousness would do me some good. I've done a lot of things in my life that I'm not proud of, but I'm not a murderer, if I have to kill someone, I will…but I could hardly stand stabbing Lynch one time, you'd have to be a psychopath to do it to somebody nine times."
Mad Dog went over to Frankie and held her as she slowly fell to pieces, "We had to get away, we got away, that's all that mattered there, that's why I had to do it, but how in the hell could Masterson stab a woman so many times? She couldn't have done anything to him, she couldn't have been a threat to him."
Hannibal thought Frankie was going to throw up so he told Mad Dog to take her into the bathroom.
"Well," Face said quietly, feeling a little sick himself, "I guess that explains everything."
"Yes, but it doesn't solve our problems when we get back home," Hannibal said, "Lynch may be in the hospital for a while, but that just means somebody else is going to be brought in to replace him."
"Well," Face said as he folded his arms, "On the other hand, can anybody be as bad as Lynch?"
"Nice shot, Colonel."
"Why thank you, General, now what was that you were saying? Something about the A-Team?"
The general handed a file over to Colonel Roderick Decker, "These men have been wanted for over ten years and it's time we closed the book on them once and for all."
Decker ignored the file and instead reloaded his rifle, "That case has been on the back burner for years. It's common knowledge that Colonel Lynch has been waging his own little war."
"Precisely, or rather, he was," General Bullen told him.
Decker's head moved up, for a second ignoring getting an accurate aim on his target, and he glanced back at the general and inquired, "Lynch is out of the picture?"
"For the time being anyway," the general informed him, "I suppose you haven't been reading the papers lately."
Decker snorted, "What's to read these days? Just a bunch of comics and the latest statements from those political gasbags down in Washington."
"Ah ha, then you haven't been informed of the latest news," General Bullen said, "Colonel Lynch is recovering in a Veterans hospital currently."
Decker knew Lynch more by reputation than by having actually met the man, still, he'd seen the man's picture and he couldn't help asking, "That fat potato finally have a heart attack?"
"No," the general answered, "He was injured during his latest escapade with the A-Team."
Decker snorted and said, "They have quite a reputation for themselves, shoot anything and everything in their sight, except the people in their sight, they finally wise up and blow a hole in Lynch?"
"Hardly," the general said, "He tracked the A-Team out to an abandoned airport and a fight ensued, somebody got the drop on Decker and cut his chest open with a piece of airplane scrap metal."
Even Decker couldn't help grimacing at that mental image. "So you're bringing me in to substitute for him while he's on medical leave, is that it?"
"Not exactly," Bullen told him, "Colonel Lynch has spent the last 10 years trying to catch the A-Team and making himself and the United States Army in general look like a bad joke the entire time. They were all but forgotten only a couple years after they escaped from Fort Bragg, but Colonel Lynch pursued it relentlessly, it's personal for him."
"And it will be personal for me too, you know that," Decker reminded the general, "I knew Colonel Smith in Vietnam, to put it lightly, we didn't see eye to eye."
"It's more than that, Colonel," General Bullen said, "With Lynch constantly throwing balls down their alley, he's mushroomed this into what is viewed as an extremely embarrassing string of situations. The A-Team has relieved Colonel Lynch of a variety of aircrafts belonging to the military, countless times he's lost countless MP cars in high speed chases. And every time, we had to make restitution to a number of innocent shopkeepers whose store fronts were destroyed in the process, all thanks to Lynch."
"And now that he's gone, we take over, is that it?" Decker asked.
"Not us, you, Colonel, during 'Nam you were our best troubleshooter, always the one we could count on."
"Until extreme political pressure knocked the hat off my career and any possibility of furthering my rank," Decker pointed out sarcastically.
"That's all in the past and you know it, right now you're the only one holding you back from rising up the ladder."
"If you ask me, General, it is the very methods that made me an embarrassment as others have put it, those are the very methods that make me the man for this job. I wasn't good enough for those stars in 'Nam, but now you think a little flattery is all it takes to make me forget. We both know what you're saying, General, so let's not dance around the dance floor. So what is the bottom line here?"
"What I'm interested in, Colonel, are results. Bring me the A-Team and I'm sure come the time you decide you want to move up in the ranks, no one will be standing in your way."
"Okay, General, you got yourself a deal," Decker said, doing well not to let on as to how thrilled he was to have this assignment handed to him, "I'll bring them in, count on it."
"I am, Colonel," the general told him, "I am."
Murdock was waiting in the hotel's dining room for Mad Dog and Frankie, the others had gone about various errands around the island, so he knew he'd be able to talk to them alone when they showed up. He finally saw the two of them come down the stairs and he met them in the lobby.
"Hey Frankie cous, you feeling alright now?" he asked.
Frankie swallowed hard and said, "Yeah, I think so."
Murdock had them follow him over to one of the tables and he took the courtesy of ordering breakfast for he and M.D., and judging by Frankie's complexion, one ginger ale on the rocks. Frankie kept her head low to the table and bit her thumbnail as she said scornfully, "I told you that he didn't believe me."
"It's not that Hannibal doesn't believe you, he does, but he had to find out what happened," Murdock tried to explain, "Why didn't you tell us what had happened?"
"What would've been the point?" Frankie asked, "We got away, we were getting away, that's all that mattered." She stopped biting her nail and looked up at him across the table and said, "Now that the cat's out of the bag I'm sure your colonel is going to be looking into the rest of our past so I might as well tell you this now and you can relay the message to him later."
"What's that?" Murdock asked.
Frankie all but dropped her head on the table and pressed her balled up hands against her temples as she explained, "I told you about that night I tried busting Mad Dog out of the hospital, the guards caught us, one of the guards was stabbed that night, now since your colonel thinks I have some kind of fetish for playing with knives naturally he's going to think I'm responsible for that too, but I didn't do it…neither of us did it."
"I believe you," Murdock said, "Uh let me guess, another inmate did it? Somebody who knew about you guys and was trying to help?"
"Yeah that's right," Frankie said, sounding a bit in shock, "How'd you know that?"
"Well, Frankie cous, you might not be able to trust most patients at the mental hospitals but there's always at least one guy you can count on to help. Now, did he actually have a knife or did he use something else? Like a straightened out bedspring, or a pen, or…"
"It was an old piece of licorice he'd managed to sharpen," Frankie answered, "Said he learned that trick in prison, gave him something to do when he was locked up in the hole for a month."
"Well…isolation in incarceration does force a man to become resourceful, and to come up with the damnedest things for amusement and to keep his mind occupied until further notice," Murdock said as if he was reciting some brilliant speech.
"Yeah well it doesn't matter much," Frankie said as she pulled her head up and straightened her back, "I doubt Hannibal believes me anyway."
"He does," Murdock told her.
"How do you know?" Frankie asked.
"Because over the years he has gotten to be an expert at reading people, he is a human lie detector, trust me he knows, we all knew," Murdock answered.
Frankie was melancholic as she said bluntly, "There's nothing worse than not having anyone believe you."
"Yeah I know all about that," he replied, "We all do, you think you've got problems, try explaining to the men in the brass that you really didn't steal the million dollars you took from the Bank of Hanoi."
Frankie arched one eyebrow and asked him, "How did that work anyway?"
"It's a long story," he said, "And the others can explain it better than I can, I was just the pilot for the mission, that's why I went to the V.A. instead of Fort Bragg with them."
"Murdock," Frankie said, "Do you think we're actually going to catch Masterson?"
"We can sure as hell try," Murdock told her, "And if necessary we'll die trying…or try dying," he thought about it and added, "And maybe then we'll try tie-dying."
Frankie buried her face in the tabletop laughing.
"Hey," Mad Dog said, the first thing he'd said since they sat down at the table, and it got the attention of both Murdocks.
"What is it?" they asked.
A small smirk found its way to his face and he told the others, "Maybe I have finally lost my mind, but I just got a crazy idea."
"I like those, what is it?" Murdock asked.
The smirk had grown into a large grin and Mad Dog looked like he was almost going to laugh and he asked Murdock, "Do you think it's possible to literally scare a person to death?"
"Certainly it's possible," Murdock said, "Why?"
"If the law can't touch Masterson, maybe we can get his old heart to stop ticking," Mad Dog said, "There's never been a case on the books for murder caused by fear, and that's not about to change now."
Murdock turned towards Frankie and told her, "I like your boyfriend, cous."
Frankie winked at him and said, "He has his perks." She alternated at looking between Murdock and Mad Dog and said, "Now I like this idea, I gave it some thought myself once I got locked up in the hospital, of course I could never think of a way to pull it off, and besides," she turned back to Murdock and told him, "As far as I've always known, Masterson is as healthy as a horse and the same can be said for his heart."
"Too bad fear doesn't affect the liver," Murdock said, "I doubt he takes those cod oil pills. My great grandmother took those for 40 years, she died at 107 and 3 days later they managed to beat her liver to death to match."
"How about it, Murdock?" Frankie asked, "If you know anything about mental health you have to have some knowledge about physical health too, fear can kill people with pre-existing heart conditions, but can fear kill healthy people too?"
"Oh anybody could have a heart attack under the right conditions," Murdock told her, "Now technically speaking, it's still murder, but there's no prosecutor who will ever be able to prove it. Killing somebody without ever having to touch them, it's brilliant, it's genius."
"It's pure evil," Frankie said with a sinister grin on her face.
"That's why it's such a wonderful plan," Mad Dog told the others.
"Right, but what is the plan?" Murdock asked.
"Are you sure we can trust them, Hannibal?" Face asked as he, B.A. and Hannibal headed back to the hotel.
"Why not?" Hannibal asked.
"You really believe that story she told us?" Face asked.
"Yes, Lieutenant, I do," Hannibal replied, "If Frankie had intentionally tried to kill Lynch, I don't think she would've failed."
"Something about the whole thing don't seem right, Hannibal," B.A. said.
"I gotta agree with B.A., Hannibal," Face added, "The murdered woman was stabbed to death, and Colonel Lynch gets stabbed as well."
"But Lynch didn't die," Hannibal reminded them, "And he wasn't stabbed, not like the woman was anyway. You heard Frankie, she cut him open, it was like a surgical incision," he cut through the air with his hand as he mimicked the cutting method, "It wasn't a simple jab and thrust," he drew his arm back and jerked his hand forward to demonstrate, "Frankie wasn't thinking, she was simply reacting."
"Reacting to what?" Face asked.
"Face, you know as well as I do that people in combat can often snap, and do the most reprehensible things without ever thinking about doing them, they just do them. Frankie knew if we got caught we wouldn't be able to do anything to stop Masterson, so the logic part of her brain switched over to autopilot and she just did the first thing that came to mind, injuring Lynch helped guarantee our escape, at least in her mind," Hannibal said.
"Still…something about this whole thing doesn't set well with me," Face said.
"I know," Hannibal replied, "It's like whoever printed that report deliberately did it to set Frankie up, knowing that we'd try connecting the dots."
Face stopped in his tracks and said, "You don't think…"
"I'm sure it's just a coincidence," Hannibal assured him, "All the same I think it's vital we find out where Masterson is and make sure he hasn't left the island, because if we can get the Florida papers here in two days, then it won't be too hard for him to get word of what's going on either."
"Right, but he hasn't come back to his hotel room since we got here," Face said.
"That we know of," Hannibal reminded him, "He could just be hiding out and not talking to anyone on the phone."
"So how do we find out?" Face asked.
"I'll have a talk with Sheila and see if I can get a passkey," Hannibal answered.
"Mister Masterson, housekeeping, hello?" Murdock called out in a falsetto voice as he slowly opened the door and poked his head in. He looked back and said, "Coast is clear, Hannibal."
Hannibal stepped into the room and took a look around. For the most part everything seemed to be the same as the last time he was in Masterson's room. For a moment the colonel wondered if maybe Face was right and the man hadn't come back to the hotel at all. But that thought quickly went out the window when he found some things that hadn't been there the other day. He picked up a piece of paper from the bed and said, "He's been here since I left, there's a note here."
"What's it say?" Murdock asked as he poked his head in again but kept his feet firmly on the threshold.
"Looks like Masterson is meeting with somebody at a place called The Potted Pineapple."
"These people sure got a sense of humor in naming everything," Face interjected, "That's a restaurant in the city, I saw it earlier."
"How far is it from here?" Hannibal asked.
"About two miles."
"Once we get into the city limits we can get a car to head out there," Hannibal said. He checked his watch against the time on the note and said, "Looks like he'll be there in a couple of hours, that gives us time to plan."
"What're we going to do?" Face asked.
"Well first of all we need Frankie to confirm who he is," Hannibal said, "From there we'll keep him under careful observation until we have a better chance to get him alone for a little private conversation."
"And confrontation?" Frankie asked as she appeared in the doorway.
Hannibal turned back to her and said, "You let us worry about that, we just need you to finger this guy, then after that I'm going to have Murdock put you on the bus heading back here."
"You don't trust me," Frankie realized, "You think I'm going to make a scene in a public place with dozens of witnesses? How stupid do you think I am?"
"Emotions override logic, you've hated this man since you were a little girl, and now you've got a lot more at stake than you did before, I'm not sure what you'd do, if anything, but I'm not willing to take the chance."
"What about Mad Dog?" Frankie asked.
"He has to stay here," Hannibal said, "You know as well as we do that everything will be jeopardized if Masterson sees him, he'll recognize him, and then everything's going to be shot to hell."
Frankie said nothing and just nodded slowly in cooperation. "So what do we do in the meantime?" she calmly asked him.
Captain Crane entered Decker's office and said, "Colonel."
"What'd you find, Crane?" Decker asked.
"The MPs staked out Baracus and Smith's apartments, there's been no activity at either residence to report."
Decker slowly nodded as if he already knew that and said, "They're out of the country."
"How can you be sure of that, Colonel?" Crane asked.
"Because we got a description of the plane they made their getaway in," Decker explained, "And there have been no reports of any Gulfstream jets landing anywhere in the States in the last two days, let alone one with a crew and passenger count of five or six people. Colonel Lynch said that the person who stabbed him wasn't one of the A-Team, which means that they've got somebody with them."
"A pilot, Smith, Peck and Baracus weren't trained to fly," Crane said.
"There's that," Decker conceded, "But there's someone else with them, which means most likely they've got a couple of those bleeding heart idiots who hired them." His eyes narrowed as he added, "But there hasn't been any word of someone trying to hire the A-Team for several weeks."
"Maybe they took a couple of hostages," Crane guessed.
"It's not impossible but I wouldn't give much for those chances either," Decker said, "Now they've had plenty of opportunities over the years flying out of the country to stay in a sovereign nation somewhere where we couldn't touch them, but they always come back, meaning they will again. And when they do we're going to be ready for them."