Hannibal was eerily quiet when the videotape was shut off, Murdock readied himself for the worst.

"Well, what do you think, Colonel?" he asked.

Hannibal spoke finally, "Murdock…the CIA is never going to let this get out, whatever they have to hide, they'll kill you to keep that secret."

"Stockwell will head that army," Murdock said, "He can't stand back and watch as I tell all on him and his brethren, that's what he's been trying to hold over me, he knows what I did for them, he knows what I saw, what I witnessed, what I experienced, and he's not going to take a chance on somebody else getting to me first. You've just got to trust me on this, Colonel."

Hannibal looked at his Captain uncertainly. Trust. A simple concept, but put in practice? This was just the latest example of the pilot going behind his back, and he wanted to talk about trust? He kicked himself for that thought, it wasn't fair to Murdock, none of them had any idea what he'd been put through by his time in the Agency, he couldn't hold what happened there against Murdock or how it affected the Captain now.

Hannibal just shook his head helplessly and said, "Murdock, what am I going to do with you?" He gestured with his hand as he got up from his chair, "Alright, alright, I guess we don't have much choice. If you really think this is the best chance we have…"

"Colonel, I believe it's the only chance we have," Murdock told him, "The only chance to lure Stockwell out, the only chance to catch him, the only way to set the wheels in motion to bring this all to a final end…" Murdock's eye became very distant though he was looking right at Hannibal, and he added, "And whatever happens…happens…let's just end it."

Hannibal met his Captain's eyes and gave a small smile, and a nod in return, "Good thinking, Captain."

Face appeared in the walkway between the living room and the dining room and said, "Ah, Hannibal, there's bad news."

"Gee, and everything was going so well up to this," Hannibal commented, "What is it, Face?"

"Bull, he's gone," Face told them, "I picked the lock to his room to get him up and he's not there."

Hannibal and Murdock looked to each other.

"Have you ever dealt with the CIA, Decker?" Jean asked the Colonel, who she had joined out in the massive yard of Fulbright's home, concealed by the trees up near the house.

Decker remarked, "I never had anything to do with Intelligence."

"Well no argument there," Jean told him, "But do you know anything about them? If we take them on, how many people are we looking at?"

"Enough," Decker told her, "It doesn't matter how many of them you kill, there will still be enough survivors that within a week, there won't be a shred of proof that you or anybody here ever existed."

"Boy you're just full of optimism today, aren't you?" Jean asked. She looked over his head and pointed up, "Hey look!"

Decker turned around and saw what she saw, Harlan Fulbright trying to climb down from a balcony on the second floor of the house. Jean had a sneaking suspicion he wasn't supposed to be there, and quicker than the eye could see, she snatched Decker's service revolver off his side and fired a round up in the air, missing Fulbright and the entire house by a mile, but it did its job and the sudden noise jerked Fulbright and he lost his grip on the balcony railing and fell to the ground and made a nice landing in the bushes.

"What in the hell is wrong with you?" Decker asked Jean as he snatched his gun back from her.

Jean was unfazed and told him, "You know, Roddy, in all the time I've known you I've seen you blow up buildings, bridges, highways, I've seen you shoot sniper rifles, assault rifles, Uzis, revolvers, machine guns, grenade launchers, all very macho, very showy…works wonders for showing off but you do make it hard to take you seriously. In this world, if you want to prove to people that you mean business, what you need to do is…"

They saw Fulbright making his way out of the bushes grumbling to himself, a little scratched up but hardly the worse for wear. Jean ran up behind him and in one quick move, wrapped one arm around his neck and with her free hand, took out a knife and held it at his throat.

"Always bring a blade," Jean finished her previous statement to Decker.

The front door opened and the A-Team piled out with their guns ready for whatever they found out there. What they did find was not what they expected. They had anticipated this being the beginning of an all out attack on Fulbright's home, instead, they saw Jean and Decker wrangling Fulbright around towards the front, Jean had Fulbright by the hair and had a knife to his throat.

"Keep moving, keep moving, one false move out of you and I'm gonna cut your head off and use it for a bowling ball," Jean told the General, then she leaned over towards him and said to him, "You ever see 'The Black Cat', Bull? If you so much as breathe funny, we're gonna rip your head off and play keep-away with it."

"What happened?" Hannibal demanded to know as they lowered their guns.

"We caught this cuckoo trying to fly the coop," Jean said as they let go of Fulbright and she gave him a shove towards the 4 Green Berets.

Hannibal folded his arms to his chest and shook his head like a disappointed parent and said to Bull, "You just never learn, do you? Exactly what part of 'Stockwell has a price on your head' don't you get?"

Face on the other hand turned his attention to their uninvited guest and asked, "What're you doing here?"

"I called him," Jean told Hannibal, "I thought maybe we could use his help once that videotape goes out."

"Well, it's a nice sentiment but do you really think…" Face was cut off.

"If anybody knows how to be a ruthless, bloodthirsty thug," Hannibal told his Lieutenant, "We've got the right man for the job."

"Very funny, Smith," Decker dryly replied.

Hannibal looked less pleased than Decker as he told the other Colonel, "For what it's worth, for once I'm glad you're actually around, you might come in handy. Tell me, how good are the MPs in your command at sharpshooting?"

Decker just shook his head in response, either because he thought the question was too preposterous to deserve an answer, or because by now he wasn't even sure which way was up anymore.

"I wish I could crawl under a hole and die somewhere," Jean said.

"You may get your wish before this whole thing's over," Hannibal said as he watched her stand before the full length mirror in the bedroom. She didn't look at him, and she didn't speak to him, only to his reflection standing behind her.

"I don't know what's wrong with me, it seems anymore I just can't stop crying," she told the reflection.

"I could take a guess," Hannibal said as he walked up behind her.

"If I could come with you…"

"You know that's not a possibility, kid, I'm sorry," Hannibal said.

Jean shook her head, "If anything goes wrong…"

"You'll know soon enough," he said as he gripped her shoulder in his hand.

Jean looked at both their reflections and said, "Nothing is worse than waiting. How would I know…how would I know if you got killed…and not that you were just captured, held prisoner?"

"What, like Rambo II?" Hannibal asked, and shook his head, "No such luck, if we don't come back, you'll know why." He leaned forward towards her and told her, "While we're gone, I don't want you staying at your place alone…I talked to the Trangs."

"Let me guess," Jean said, "I'm moving in with them?"

"Only until we come back, once it's all over, either way, nobody would be looking for you anymore," Hannibal said.

Jean got out a humph of a laugh and said, "I won't matter anymore."

Hannibal reached his hand up and ruffled through her hair and told her, "You know nothing can stop us, no gunmen, no traps, no courts, whatever happens, we will be back."

"You better," Jean stared coldly at his reflection, "Or I'm never talking to you again."

Hannibal chuckled at her response, "That's more like it. Remember what I told you before, as long as there's any chance for us, that's all we'll need."

Jean continued to stare at his reflection like she was trying to bore a hole through it and she told him, "Make it count."

"The tape goes out first thing in the morning," Face told the others that night, "And 10 minutes later, Murdock becomes a different brand of Public Enemy #1."

"Yeah, we're aware of that," Hannibal replied.

"The question is, is whoever comes for him going to try and make him talk, or try to kill him?" Face asked.

"Murdock?" Hannibal asked.

"Stockwell's wanted me to sing from the beginning," Murdock said, "He'll hold off on having me killed if he manages to catch me."

"What could he possibly want you to talk about?" B.A. asked, "Don't he already know everything that's gone on in the CIA?"

Murdock looked confused as the rest of them, "Maybe there was actually something he wasn't privy to, and it's eating at him."

"Murdock," Hannibal said, "What did happen on those missions you did for them?"

Murdock switched his gaze from the floor to up and over at the others, "Well…Colonel…it was…"

He tried, he started, but he just couldn't get the words out, he shook his head, "I'm sorry…I just can't…not for you…not for anybody."

Hannibal nodded glumly, "We understand, Captain."

Murdock looked sick, "I thought I'd buried that part of my life, I never thought it would follow me to the grave, not like this."

"Well," Face spoke up and got the others' attention, "There's something I've been wondering about. These guys know what they're doing, what if they actually manage to catch Murdock? What happens then?"

"Stockwell's going to try and make me talk," Murdock said, and shook his head, "I won't."

"How do you know you won't?" B.A. asked, "I thought you said these suckers know mind control."

Murdock was very somber and very serious as he addressed his teammates and explained, "If they take me…they're not taking me alive, I'll see to that. They won't get any answers out of me."

"Murdock," Face's eyes widened, "What're you saying?"

Murdock chewed on his bottom lip as he looked to the floor again, before saying to them, "I've given this a lot of thought. I know what I have to do, and I'm going to do it, if I have to."

"What's that, Murdock?" Hannibal asked, managing to stay calm.

Murdock reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a small black pill.

"I know you guys will forgive me for this," Murdock told them, "I hope Jean will. After all, she gave me this idea."

"What do you mean Jean gave it to you?" Hannibal asked disgustedly.

"Remember, Hannibal?" Murdock asked, "You can't really say you've forgotten, remember her journal she kept? Remember that first morning you found us? Do you remember?"

Hannibal tried to remember, and then, as if somebody had turned on a faucet, the memory came racing back to him.

The army had finally caught them, and after a trial they were sentenced to execution by hanging, but as they were led out to the scaffold, Smith grabbed hold of the noose and said 'I have an announcement to make and would like everyone's attention, you will not hang us here today, because we are already dead.' They had taken cyanide pills and right after he said that, they took effect and one by one they all fell down dead.

"Oh my God," was all Hannibal managed to say.

"Face made a dozen copies of Murdock's tape and sent them out to every major TV network, and a few minor ones as well," Jean told Decker and Crane the next morning as they sat parked in an MP car concealed out in the middle of nowhere along a long, winding, gravel road, "All that's left for us to do is sit on our hands until something comes up."

"Which given the subject matter of the video, shouldn't be long," Crane noted from where he was squashed in the middle of the front seat between the others, "The question is what?"

"Stockwell doesn't seem to do anything halfway," Jean told him from where she sat in the driver's seat, constantly watching out the window for any oncoming traffic, "I'm sure when he makes his move, we'll know it."

Decker looked out at the surrounding area where there was absolutely nothing around and said to her, "And you think it's going to be here."

"It's a perfectly convenient place in between his compound and the path between Fulbright's home and the Los Angeles TV studios, it's also the only road between the two points where they're not going to be spotted by everybody and his brother. Unless they're gonna break out the black choppers we'll be able to see them, and follow them."

"And what makes you think they won't?" Decker asked.

"Murdock's the best, and he's mentally off kilter right now," Jean told him, "He has no problem dying to stop Stockwell, and he sure as hell wouldn't have any qualms about taking the whole chopper crew down with him if it came to that. He also wouldn't have any problem taking over the controls and throwing everybody else out of the chopper a hundred feet in the air if he thought he could pull it off."

For whatever reason, Decker couldn't resist commenting, "Quite ironic the insane member of the A-Team's the one who would be up for murder."

"Murder?" Jean repeated, and scoffed, "It would be an execution, perfectly justifiable too." She had just started to lean back in the driver seat when she shot up straight and said, "Well would you look at that?"

Decker and Crane looked, and up the road they saw coming several large, unmarked, armored vehicles.

"What the hell?" Decker asked in disbelief as they watched the parade of trucks roll by.

"Well good buddy, mercy sakes alive, it looks like we got us a convoy," Jean said as she turned the engine over and waited, counting a grand total of 18 trucks, and waited until the last one had passed them before storming out of their hiding spot in the off-road blind spot and getting onto the road behind the truck line. "Get on the radio, get Hannibal."

In a short amount of time they'd covered all bases, including putting a scrambler on Decker's car radio so nobody could listen in.

"What's the situation, guys?" Hannibal's voice crackled over the radio.

Jean kept the accelerator to the floor and kept her eyes on the road ahead but said loud enough to drown out Decker, "Hannibal you ain't ever gonna believe this one, it's 18 armored trucks heading your way, it's a whole damn convoy."

"All this for Murdock," Face's voice chimed in on the radio waves, "He must've left a lasting impression in the CIA."

"What now, Hannibal?" Jean asked, "What do we do now? They're heading right your way and at this rate it ain't gonna be long, these trucks are made for this cruddy road and at I'd say 65 mph."

"Let them come, we're ready for them," Hannibal came back at them, "As for you, I strongly recommend you get away from them, double back, get on a main road, then hammer down."

"Hannibal," Jean bellowed over into the radio, "We're already there. 10-4, over and out." The next sound heard on the radio waves was the screeching of the tires as the car did a sharp U turn and pulled away from the procession.

"What's he mean by they're ready for them?" Decker asked her.

"Beats me," she said, "But I guess we're gonna find out soon enough." She shook her head, "I don't know what Stockwell's got planned, but it must be something big; in any movie when the government wants you dead, they just send out a couple men dressed in black in a little black car, they don't send out the whole military. Obviously they're going to step in and make some kind of announcement to put the immediate public in a panic to justify coming in and kidnapping Murdock, what do you think? Some kind of disease, an epidemic, terrorism, what?"

"I hate to think what it could be," Crane spoke up.

"Yeah well I guess that makes three of us," Jean said as they drove up the road at 80 miles an hour and continuing to climb, "You better brace yourself, Roddy, if there's one thing I happen to know about these cars, they tend to shake once you clear 95."

"Very funny, Rhodes," he said to her.

"That wasn't a joke," she told him, "It's an observation. Hang on!"

She buried the accelerator to the floor and they zipped through the streets at the car's limit before they saw somebody signaling them up ahead, Jean hit the brake and swerved over to the side and they came to a stop.

"Everything's ready," B.A. told them as he came over to the car.

"What's going on?" Jean asked as she looked around and noticed for this being a public downtown street and they were right in the middle of the interstate and there was no traffic to be seen anywhere whatsoever.

"We got the area cleared off," B.A. said, "Get out of the car, now."

Jean felt her legs turning to jelly as they got out of the car, what the hell was going on? Where was everybody? What was the plan? She looked back the way they'd come and screamed as she saw the armored trucks heading their way. They were only 6, 7 blocks down the road, and…Jean turned towards the side and saw Hannibal a block down waving to them. He was positioned at the curb between the sidewalk and the street, and by his foot was…a dynamite plunger.

"Hannibal?" Jean almost couldn't believe what she was seeing.

Hannibal lifted his foot and stepped down on the plunger and the middle of the street blew up, causing the first truck to swerve off to the side and the next two to crash into each other. The others managed to make it through in spite of the explosion, and the flames, and the black smoke, and the flying debris, but not for long. All the trucks slowed down as best they could at what was up ahead, and Jean, Decker and Crane looked to see what it was, and they couldn't believe it either. Taxiing down the main street was a modified military cargo plane, and it showed no signs of taking off, or slowing down.

"He is insane," Decker realized.

"He's kamikaze," Jean said as she watched the plane continue taxiing down the street at the oncoming armored vehicles, which promptly lost their drivers as everybody took off before they got killed.

The joke was on the drivers because the plane started to leave the ground and just missed crashing into the trucks, instead each vehicle just sustained minor roof damage from the wheels before they finished folding up.

"Alright, they're all here," Hannibal told the others as he grabbed his rifle, "Everybody get a partner and let's dance!"

Some of the people standing in the middle of the street were dazed from the combination of the explosion and their trucks colliding into each other, all of them were confused as hell as to what was going on and didn't recover quick enough to avoid the people that came running up to them and grabbing them, and then proceeding to punch their lights out or beat them in the head with the butt stock of their guns. Hannibal KO'd one, B.A. body tossed another, Decker put one in a sleeper hold and let him hit the asphalt, Crane pistol whipped one and clocked him, sending him to the ground as well, Jean grabbed one by his arm and kicked him in the face, but she was keeping her eyes on the prize, the prize was Stockwell, and where was he? She ran through the pandemonium and looked at everybody who had escaped from the trucks.

"Where's she going?" B.A. asked Hannibal, who only shrugged in response as they continued the melee.

Jean went to the trucks one by one and threw the doors open and screamed in frustration, "He's not here, WHERE IS HE!?" she went to the first trucks that had smashed into each other, there hadn't been anybody left behind in them either. "NO!" she yelled as she yanked on her short hair, "He HAS to be here! Murdock COULDN'T have been wrong!"

Hannibal came running over to Jean and grabbed her and shook her and she fell back against the side of one of the armored trucks.

"Jean, pull yourself together…that's an order, Corporal!" he yelled at her and smacked her hard across the face.

The sound of rapid gunfire made them both turn and look. The plane had indeed been modified, it was modified so as they came back around again, Face could open fire on people down below, and right now there was one man out of the rest who was trying to find cover.

"Hunt Stockwell," Hannibal said.

Jean was too shocked to respond in any way to the sight of the older man running through the streets that now looked like a warzone, all she could do was stand back and watch as he just managed to duck the descending machine gunfire at every turn. Hannibal waved them on down, and the cargo plane slowly put its wheels out and touched down in the middle of the street. The door opened, the stairs touched down, and Face and Murdock stepped out of the plane, both armed, and with their guns aimed right at Stockwell.

"I guess you thought you were dealing with amateurs, eh, Hunt?" Hannibal inquired. He kicked at a piece of debris from one of the trucks caught in the explosion and sent it skidding across the pavement and told the General, "I'm done playing games, why did you come here?"

"He's come for me, Hannibal," Murdock said as he lowered his gun and handed it to Face, "He knows he can get to me and he knows with enough forced persuasion he could get me to talk, about things that nobody remembers, about things I shouldn't have to remember, about things if I never remembered them again for the rest of my life, it would be too soon. Why? Blackmail? Force me to come over to his side? Do his dirty work for him? And drag the rest of you in with me, or get you killed in the process? Oh no…" he shook his head, "That's not going to happen, I've made sure to that…you can call out all your dogs, Stockwell, you can drag me off but you won't get anything out of me, because you're not going to take me alive."

Quicker than anybody could fully realize what was going on, Murdock pulled a black pill out of his pocket and swallowed it.

"Murdock, no!" Stockwell lunged at the Captain, but was grabbed by the neck of his jacket and dragged back.

Stockwell saw the knife before he felt the edge of it planted against his throat. It was an old butcher's knife, shaped like a narrow mini cleaver, the blade scarcely any bigger across than the handle it was attached to.

"Whack, whack," Jean told him, "I just might kill a quack." Her eyes were cold as steel and told him, "I've been waiting for this moment, Stockwell, I knew it'd come at any cost."

Stockwell didn't have long to think about that because the next thing he knew, something hit him in the back of the head and knocked him out, he fell on the asphalt.

"You alright?" B.A. asked Jean.

Jean grabbed the butcher knife by the middle of the blade and bent it, exposing it to be rubber with a hard plastic edge to imitate sharpened metal, "Never better." She pocketed it and went over to Murdock, who was hunched down on the ground throwing up.

"We've got to get him to a hospital," Decker said.

"No we don't," Jean said and looked up at him, "You don't really think he'd take poison, do you?"

Decker did a double take, "Then what the hell's wrong with him?"

Murdock groaned long and excruciatingly before retching again.

"You know there's a reason they ground black pepper up into those little specks," Jean told Decker, "Instead of just swallowing the whole peppercorn."

Murdock retched again. Jean mildly cringed and explained to Decker, "They don't agree with some people's systems."

"He'll be alright, but how exactly are we going to explain what's gone on here today?" Face asked, "I mean between clearing off this whole side of the city, and our friends over there…"

"That will be easy," Hannibal told them, "We just take any ID they have, leave them here, take the General with us…"

"And leave those suckers here with a nasty little surprise," B.A. said.

"Local police don't know who's CIA, they won't care who's CIA and they're not going to believe a bunch of drug smugglers who say they're CIA."

"Drug smugglers?" Crane asked.

"Oh believe me," Hannibal hit his chest dramatically, "I hate to do it, really I do, but it's just one of the necessary evils of this job. Sometimes if you want people to stay put you have to plant them there yourself, and when these dunces are found with 30 pounds of heroin…"

"30 pounds?" Decker repeated.

"Well, it's certainly a large enough amount that would require a whole cartel to get it transported," Hannibal pointed out, "And it just so happens we had that much leftover from a previous mission that we didn't get a chance to turn over to the authorities, so…"

"What about the plane?" Face asked.

"It's a plane," Hannibal looked to the pilot on all fours and asked him, "Think you can fly it out of here, Captain?"

Murdock rocked on his knees and tried to catch his breath, but he gave the Colonel a thumbs up.

"I'll help him," Jean said.

"Good," Hannibal said, "Now, I'll just call the authorities and let them know we wrapped up our shooting for the film commission, and that we had some sudden unexpected guests crash everything."

"Think they'll believe that?" Face asked.

"They've believed stranger before," Hannibal told him.

"What about Stockwell?" Decker asked.

"He's coming with us," Hannibal said, "If you're game, we'd be pleased to have you join us."

"Man there's something I never thought I'd hear Hannibal say," B.A. said to Face.

Face just shrugged and replied, "Desperate times I suppose."

"Alright everybody, let's move," Hannibal told them.