* * * NOTE * * *
Hey there. It took me a while to finish this chapter, but hurray, here it is. One more to go to finish the story. I hope you've enjoyed it. Thanks so much for the reviews. I have been happily reading them.

Chapter 20: BAD GUYS, THIS WAY

Mitchell silently watched the clock-hands moving forward at an agonizingly slow pace while puffing on his cigar.
Blowing out a large cloud of smoke he was mentally preparing himself for the confrontation with the commandos.
The group of mercenaries told him to bring money, but he wasn't going to do that. He would not be threatened and told what to do like a little child.
Mitchell's hand balled into a fist as he remembered the fresh humiliation and degree of destruction it accompanied.
Gradually the older man lowered his hand to put out the stump of his cigar in the ashtray. It was time these men would get what they deserved...
From behind his desk, he eyed the four men he'd hired himself. They were standing in his office, calmly waiting for his instructions.
All four of them were thugs; big, bulky, and armed.

"More muscle than brain," Mitchell thought.

Perfect for what he'd had in mind. These men were trained to do as he told them to, no questions asked. They were going to make sure that Mitchell could finally lay his hands on his painting.
The only thing that bothered him was the fact that Dave nor Patrick had returned the other day.
He wasn't sure if he could trust either of them anymore unless something had happened to them. Maybe that commando team had laid their hands on both men? If so, he'll find out soon enough.
Sighing, Mitchell stood up from his desk and nodded at the men.
The foursome immediately stirred and flanked him on his way out of the building.

Face was checking his watch for the third time in 5 minutes. She could be here any second now.
The handsome conman was hiding in an alley adjacent to Mitchell's antique store, waiting for his date to arrive.
The alley was filled with random abandoned and broken furniture that belonged to the shop. Hidden behind a big flower patterned arm chair, he'd seen Mitchell leave only a few minutes earlier, accompanied by four big gorillas while closing the store behind him.
This was information he immediately communicated with Hannibal who told him he had set up a little surprise party for the men.
Now the conman was waiting until he could play out his own part of the plan.
He hoped she would hurry up though. Timing was of the essence.

Having nothing better to do, Face quickly checked his reflection in the mirror of a crooked dressing table while combing a hand through his hair.
He looked as suave as always, and thank heavens his split lip was not so noticeable anymore. He had a few bruises and a bump on the back of his head, but that was stuff he could hide easily under clothing and hair. He'd removed the bandages from his fingers as the cuts had closed overnight.
As for clothes, he'd put on his tailor-made coat and the very last of his clean shirts.

"I'm glad I packed one extra," Face mumbled while straightening his black silk tie.

He didn't fancy borrowing one of Murdock's quoted t-shirts again.
It happened one time, and Murdock had given Face a dark red t-shirt saying There is a creep in your future. It just didn't work in his favor and girls suddenly seemed to be keen on avoiding him. Face frowned at the memory.
Anyway... right now he was reasonably presentable considering the circumstances. And it was a good thing too because he really needed to play the part today.
Face was feeling a bit nervous about Hannibal's plan. They had to time everything perfectly, or the team would get in trouble themselves.
The conman sighed. Yep, the man was on the jazz again.

The tapping sound of shoes on pavement drew Face's attention and made him sigh in relief.
Kate walked around the corner of the street and beamed at him when she saw the handsome man waiting for her.
She was dressed in a pair of skinny jeans with high boots and a white blouse that complimented her figure. Her dark brown hair tied in a hip ponytail gave her a bit of a sporty appearance.
Face swallowed while he approvingly observed her pretty frame. Checking her out from head to toe he had to admit that she looked mighty fine.
She smiled while doing the exact same thing to him and blushed slightly. Face smiled to himself as he recognized the look in her eyes. She obviously liked what she saw too.

"Are you ready?" Face said with his most charming smile.

"Ready as you are" Kate answered, producing a key from her handbag and walking to the store's back door in the alley.

Face followed her closely.
He didn't really need a key to get into the place, but she didn't need to know that for now. All she knew was that they were going to look through Mitchell's administration in search for documents that would put the old man in a bad spotlight. That shouldn't be too difficult.
Face figured that her help would definitely speed up things.
When Face enlightened Kate about the situation, she didn't seem too surprised.
Mitchell had fired her on the spot the other day because she failed to call the police when the team barged in. He sent her home without her payroll.
When Face called her, she was eager to help. Embracing Face's story, she agreed to help him, longing for a bit of adventure together with the attractive conman. Not to mention taking revenge on her former boss. And unfortunately for the old man, he had forgotten to claim his keys back.

"Are you okay doing this?" Face asked Kate with a soft voice when he noticed her hands were trembling slightly while opening the door.

"Positive", she said, reassuring him with a smile.

They walked in, and Kate pointed them to the filing cabinets.

"Besides being the shopkeeper, I also filed all the new antiques Mr. Mitchell brought in", Kate told Face opening one of the drawers and flipping with her index finger over the name labels.

She stopped when she found what she was looking for and pulled out a file. Opening the folder on a table, she added: "That Tiffany lamp that you collected together with your… eh brother-who-wasn't-really-your-brother?" (Face smirked at her choice of words) "Was one of the new objects of which the background information seemed incomplete."

Kate showed Face the documents while continuing her explanation.
The conman smiled to himself. He thought that Kate would've needed some coaxing, but all in all, this went much easier than he thought.

Kate continued: "Usually when I file new antiques, I also receive details of the object's origin. For example: whom it was purchased from, or even when it was found on a dump or donated to the store. We also file the receipts for bookkeeping. But with the Tiffany lamp, which I know was a very rare type, I had no information at all. And that wasn't the only object that came in without any background information."

That's because these were stolen from Joe's Antique store." Face said grimly.

"This is very interesting, but I'm also looking for something else. We need to go back to earlier transactions that can be linked to the big auction a little while back and possibly before that time. Your ex-boss was interested in a certain chair".

Producing a little notebook from his coat pocket he went through the pages adding: "A 19th Century Throne-Style English Chair to be precise. It had a red upholstered seat".

"I think I know where to look", Kate said confidently turning to the archive again.

Face nodded and flashed her a sincere and thankful smile that made her cheeks turn slightly pink.

It was noon, and a car drove into the yard, parking right in front of the house.
Mitchell and the four men stepped out.
The old man stretched his legs and looked around, surveying the grounds carefully. No one was there.
A cool breeze brushed gently through the trees, and the sounds of birds and insects were gently chirping and buzzing through the air.
But no sign of the commandos.
Mitchell didn't feel too comfortable about that.
Then his eyes fell on a sign board that was attached to the porch of the house.
Someone obviously had a great time creating it. It was hand drawn in crayons with big colorful letters saying BAD GUYS GO TO THE SHED. There was a big arrow pointing in the right direction and a somewhat clumsy drawing of a crook (complete with masks, stubble and black-and-white striped prison uniform).

Angered by the sign, Mitchell was wondering what kind of situation he was going to step into next.
Where these guys even serious?
Motioning his men to follow him, he started to walk.
According to the arrow they had to go left first, which they did, guns in their hands, cautiously glancing from left to right. But still, the A-team wasn't in sight.

Soon they encountered more signs saying THIS WAY!, ALMOST THERE and YOU'RE DOING GREAT!
Each new sign enraged the older man even more than the previous one. His head was turning red, and his eyes narrowed to slits. Who were these men to treat him like a child?!
When the men walked into the sign attached to the back of the water well, saying NOT THIS WAY (PLEASE TURN AROUND AT YOUR CONVENIENCE), Mitchell swore loudly and kicked the sign away in frustration. Turning around on his heels, he found a smaller sign saying, THAT WAS RUDE! NOW WASH YOUR MOUTH! and a final sign and arrow pointing at the shed hidden behind the trees saying YOU'VE REACHED YOUR FINAL DESTINATION. The word final was underlined firmly.
The old man realized that they'd been fooled into walking a circle around the house, only to find out that they could've taken the other way around to find the building instantly. What a waste of time and frustration.
Mitchell's nerves were almost literally at a boiling point by now.
Forgetting about all his precautions, he barged into the building before his four hired thugs had a chance to keep up with him.
And that was a mistake.

The moment the older man walked through the door opening he landed in a small cage made of welded old metal fences. A heavy metal barricade fell down like a portcullis locking the man inside.
Mitchell yelled and immediately turned around, grabbing the metal pointy-edged bars to see his bodyguards being cornered and beaten up by two of the four commandos. The two A-team members had attacked the four men from their hiding places and disarmed them with a quick movement.
But the goons were fighting back, and the group had ended up in a fiery fist fight.
Even though outnumbered, the odds for Hannibal and B.A looked rather good at first, but the cards quickly turned when Hannibal was hit from behind after successfully flooring one of the goons.
The tallest of them all managed to hit the colonel with a forceful blow to the ribs.
Hannibal sucked in air and through a blurred vision he saw the man coming at him again.
Gritting his teeth the colonel anticipated the move, and even though the blow hurt like hell on his already sore ribs, he'd maneuvered away fast enough to minimize the damage. In a quick motion, he ducked, grabbed his weapon and hit the chap on the temple with the butt of his gun.
The man immediately went down while Hannibal turned around to park his fist between the teeth of the first gorilla who had just come around and dared to launch at him again.
B.A had been rather busy fighting the other two more muscular men himself.
They kept on coming, and B.A had been punching at them without a pause. But like him they were tough and big and even B.A could go on for so long.
It was about time to finish them off, and fortunately, a new opportunity offered itself.
When the men tried to run into him at the same time, B.A grinned, grabbed them by their collars and knocked their heads together with incredible force.
The two men slowly slumped down on the ground on top of each other.
Hannibal was still fighting the other bodyguard. When he couldn't dodge a kick to the head, he staggered a second too long to receive another blow to the ribs. Hannibal groaned and fell on his knees while bending double as he felt something crack.
Just when the man was about to strike again, B.A grabbed him by his coat, gave him a forceful head bump and threw him through the air like a rag doll.
The man landed in a heap on top of the other two unconscious species.

"Thanks sergeant" Hannibal wheezed while holding his hand protectively against his ribs.

B.A offered him a hand to get back to his feet. "You okay?", he asked in concern.

"I'll live", Hannibal said, straining his face into a smile.

While Hannibal caught his breath, B.A quickly tied up and chained the four unconscious and rather unfortunate thugs.
Placed with their backs together, they looked like a miserable lot with their heads drooping onto their chests.
Hannibal composed himself, and when he turned around to face Mitchell, no sign of pain could be read from his face.

The captured old man had been staring helplessly at his, once again, incompetent bodyguards from behind his cage bars.
His spirits dropped when he saw the commandos overpower his men with ease when a suddenly muffled sound behind him made him jump.
In the rush of the moment, the old man hadn't paid any attention to his surroundings.
He turned around, his back pressed against the iron wall that kept him locked in.
Outside his confinement, the small wooden building seemed to be piled up to the roof with tools and all kinds of old furniture.
The dim light of the shed fell on wardrobes, tables, chairs and all types of rusty and worn out utensils.
The cage itself was made of a variety of old metal garden fences, neatly welded together to form a wall on all sides.
Inside the cage, against one of the metal walls, stood a big old wardrobe with mirrored doors. And to Mitchell's shock, he hadn't been alone.
In the middle of the cage was a man sitting bound, gagged and blindfolded in an antique chair.
THE antique chair.
The one Mitchell had been hunting after all that time.

Squinting hard, Mitchell had a better look at the boy and recognized Dave.
Taped to the young man's chest was a big envelope saying READ ME FIRST and a drawing of a smiling doggy.
More signs in crayon! Who were these guys!?
The older man approached the boy suspiciously and took the envelope as if it could explode any second.
He felt Hannibal's gazing stare burning in his back and turned to face him.

"Better read it first Mitchell," Hannibal said with a serious tone of voice, slowly aiming his rifle at the man.

"And read it out loud. Dave might be interested in listening in as well".

Hannibal grinned before puffing on his cigar. Mitchell slowly opened the envelope and read.

Dear Mr. Mitchell
We regret to inform you that your henchman, Dave, has been a rather insubordinate kid. He has been behaving badly this week and killed two men (that we know of) during the process.

His victims are Sean Hernandez, a former resident of this house, and Patrick Pacini, your other henchman (the tattoo guy).
Dave had a second agenda and went a little rogue on you. He was planning to steal the van Gogh painting (yes we know of its existence) right under your nose and keep it to himself. Now ain't that something?

So...Tell us. How does it feel to be double crossed?
We hope that this letter will act as a warning in advance to avoid complications in the future.

With much love (xxx)

the A-team.

Mitchells' eyebrows rose, and his nostrils flared in hardly concealed temper.
Enraged, he crumpled the letter to a ball, and threw it to the ground with force.
Then he leaped to Dave and harshly removed the blindfold and gag from the boy's head. The younger man shook his head and blinked when the suddenly harsh light hit his eyes.

"You were trying to steal from me, boy?!" Mitchell shouted while grabbing Dave's hair and pulling his head backward awkwardly.

Dave, looking slightly pale and sweaty and made a gagging sound.

"Now now, be gentle," Hannibal said half-heartedly, taking a cigar from his lips and looking at it with faked interest.

"You don't want to add manhandling to your criminal record now, do you?"

B.A who was standing next to the colonel, keeping guard over the four bound goons, sniggered softly.

"Why!?" Mitchell shouted, releasing his grip on Dave. "I didn't order you to kill these men. I didn't order you to kill Patrick. Killing leaves traces you dumb ignorant boy. You were only to cause dismay at Joe's store. I did not order you to murder."

"Should've paid me more, pops," Dave said hoarsely. "I don't care what you want. I know what 'I' want".

He looked the man daringly in the eyes.
The older man fumed.

"Where is my painting!" He shouted while shaking the boy viciously. "Where is it!"

"I don't know. I don't have it anymore!", Dave panted.

Mitchell's eyes bulged as he considered this for a second. Then his eyes feverishly fell upon the chair.

"It's still in the chair, is it? IS IT?!"

Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed Dave by his collar and pulled him forcibly out of the old throne.
The bound young man landed face forward on the stone floor, causing him a bloody nose. Trying to lift himself on his elbows while blood dripped on his shirt, he scuttling away from the madman who had already begun searching the chair.
The old man knew exactly where to look and curled his bony fingers around the seat cover.
Just as the man was about to reveal the throne's hidden treasure, a series of squeaky sounds (followed by a soft "shhh" sound) could be heard close by.
But Mitchell didn't hear it, being too focused on his current task.
Dave, however, moved his head slightly into the direction he thought the sound was coming from. The only thing inside the cage was the old dusty wardrobe, and he eyed it suspiciously.
But then Mitchell uttered a cry of almost desperate excitement, and Dave's head snapped back to pay attention to the man.
Mitchell's eyes had a weird glint of euphoria when he finally lifted the package from the hidden compartment of the chair.
With trembling hands, he started to remove the cotton rags that were covering the canvas.
Meanwhile, Hannibal calmly surveyed him with folded arms and a neutral expression on his face.
He was simply letting the scene play itself out.
As Mitchell revealed the canvas, he turned it around to look at it properly.
A silence fell in the shed.
The old man's face suddenly turned gray and his mad grin faded into a snarl.

"You…." the old man hissed under his breath turning to Dave once more. "You IDIOT!".

Dave, who sat against the fence-wall of the cage looked slightly disturbed. Mitchell snapped at Dave, waving frantically with the canvas.

"This is the wrong painting! What have you done with it! Where is my Van Gogh!".

Dropping the canvas, he dove into the boy's direction grabbing him by the collar again and smashing his head into the fence.

"All this work for nothing. All these months of preparations to get the painting in my possession. And you mess it all up, boy. You will pay for this!".

Dave who was seeing stars by now slumped into the metal framework, unable to protect himself.

"Tut tut", Hannibal said calmly from the other side of the bar.

"It doesn't look like you are going anywhere right now Mr. Mitchell. And like I said earlier; Be careful with Dave. I don't think you want to add manhandling to your already building record".

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!", Mitchell yelled almost hysterically, starting to feel very unsettled about the whole situation.

"Where is my Van Gogh? I will pay you good money. Just like we agreed. I'll pay anything you want. I will pay for the damage of Joe's warehouse too, and you'll give me the painting. Just let me out, and I will collect it at my office immediately".

"Oh that won't be necessary," a cheerfully mocking voice said from outside the shed. Face walked in with a smug smile on his face.

"Did you get what we needed, Face?" Hannibal asked eagerly with a bright glance in his eyes.

"Yes, I did." Face smiled. "And I also found this,"

The conman removed an envelope from his inside pocket, revealing a large sum of money.

"I happened to stumble upon a safe in your office Mr. Mitchell. And assuming you wouldn't be bothered to bring the requested amount with you today, I took the opportunity to collect it myself."

Looking at Mitchells slightly slack-jawed face, he added, "Don't worry. I left you some change. We're honest people after all".

Face put the envelope back in his jacket with a smile.

"Oh! And before I forget", he added mischievously, "I also found some interesting papers that show us the transactions and communication between you and the smugglers of that painting. A sunflowers by Van Gogh I believe?"

Mitchell snarled angrily at the handsome conman who faked a polite smile.

"Did I mention that the police is currently nosing around your store with a search warrant? They're looking for a stolen Van Gogh and compelling incriminating leads that would spread some light on the case."

Winking at Hannibal, Face added with a smug grin. "I understand they received an anonymous tip about the matter."

Hannibal cocked his head and returned the smile.

"Well, Whaddayaknow," he said thickly with his cigar in the corner of his mouth."I wonder who it was..".

Mitchell's laughed scornfully. "They won't find it in my store, you idiots. I don't have it."

"Oh, but there you're wrong, mister." Hannibal said. "I think we forgot to mention that we planted that painting during our last visit."

Taking a puff from his cigar he added: "So I'm pretty positive the police will find it there. You had it right under your nose all that time. Must be a little frustrating to be you."

There was a short piercing silence in which both older men eyed each other with similar disgust.
But it was quickly interrupted by a loud squeaky sound, followed by another 'ssshh be quiet'
This time both Dave and Mitchell turned their heads to look at the big wardrobe with the mirrored doors.
It was standing at the far edge of their fenced cage.

"Murdock", Hannibal sighed. "Didn't I tell you to leave Fred in the van?"

The big door of the wardrobe creaked loudly when it was pushed open by a long leg.
A lanky man with baseball cap and leather jacket was sitting half crouched with a video camera in front of his face, filming the whole scene.

"Uhhhmmm, this isn't what it looks like", he said rather awkwardly to the two men in the cage.
Looking caught in the act, the pilot lowered the camera with a sheepish grin on his face.

Not receiving any immediate response, he quickly admitted, "Okay okay! it IS what it looks like".

A little yellow head with an orange beak popped up behind the zipper of his coat and squeaked loudly.

"I trust the camera worked well?" Hannibal asked with a cheerful conversational tone in his voice.

"Yep, taped it all loud 'n clear, Colonel", Murdock said, apparently unnerved by the fact that he was sitting inside the cage with the other two (still staring) villains.

He looked at B.A while patting the video camera, adding: "Great idea to use that one-way mirror glass, big guy! Worked like a charm"

B.A nodded at him with a little proud smile on his lips.
Looking from Hannibal to Murdock, Mitchell's lips started curling into a wicked smile.
The man with the baseball cap was inside the cage. HIS cage.
He handled quickly.
Bending his knees, he retrieved a small pistol from his right cowboy boot.
He had been hiding it there all this time in case he needed it. This was his chance to get out!
Maybe he could still do some damage control.

Aiming the pistol at the captain, he snarled with a wicked glare in his eyes, "You made a big mistake boy. Sitting here in a lion's den, right between the lions".

Facing Hannibal while keeping the pistol aimed at Murdock he hissed: "Let me out, or your boy gets it!".

Still sitting on his haunches, Murdock cocked his head with a lopsided smile, dropped the video camera on his lap and with his right arm obtained a green egg-shaped object from the dark corner of the wardrobe.
He pulled out the safety pin with his teeth and spat it at Mitchell's feet.

"Ain't it sweet. I got you somethin' special too," He said with a giggle, showing the men the grenade while firmly keeping the safety clip pressed in his hand.

"It's amazeballs. I discovered lots more of these in this shack. They were all sitting in a box that was marked WWII."

Murdock clumsily grabbed the camera with his stiff left arm, stood up and stepped out of the wardrobe like stepping out of a train. He kept his right arm stretched out towards the old man who was by now sweating peanuts.

"You want it? It's yours if you like." Murdock smiled with a slightly crazed look in his eyes, "But don't blow any extra holes in me. It might just startle me enough to drop it, and then we will all go BOOM".

He voiced a great imitation of exploding bomb sounds for extra effect.
Mitchell backed away at these words, throwing the pistol on the ground and holding his hands defeated in the air.
Murdock carefully pushed Fred, who was still lurking above his zipper, back inside the coat.

Then, without a warning, he cried, "BOMBS AWAY!" and threw the grenade towards Mitchell, who hurried after the explosive to throw it out of the cage.

Murdock dove to the ground, swiftly picking up the small weapon and ran towards the exit where B.A already lifted the heavy portcullis for him.

"Get out of there, sucka!", he barked.

"Comin'", Murdock chirped with a melodic voice, hopping over the still bound Dave who was now screaming frantically and trying to squirm his way out as well. B.A immediately closed the gate behind the lanky pilot, and everybody backed away.
Mitchell yelled when he couldn't reach the grenade and dived into the corner of the cage covering his head, waiting for the blow to come.

But nothing happened.

Slowly and bewildered Mitchell lifted his head from under his hands.
A quiet laugh came from outside the cage.

"I think Murdock forgot to tell you that these grenades were dummies... empty shells". Hannibal grinned with his cigar bobbing happily in the corner of his mouth again.

"Hmm... At least I think they were!", Murdock said, holding a finger against his lips and looking rather pensively.

All men, including his team members, looked at him in alarm.

"Murdock you fool!", B.A cried, taking a few extra steps backward.

But fortunately, still nothing exploded.
Face rolled his eyes at Murdock who, alas for the conman, missed the gesture while being quite occupied by the energetic gosling in his jacket.

"You….You're all raving lunatics!" Mitchell yelled with acid in his voice.

He shakily clambered back to his feet and grabbed the metal barricade with two hands.

Murdock took a step closer with Fred peeking over his zipper again.

"On the contrary, my dear sir." Murdock said in his best British accent, "I'm the only raving lunatic in here!

"He, however", the lanky pilot pointed his thumb over his shoulder at Hannibal, "Is just a brilliant virtuoso on the jazz."

"Gee, thanks, Murdock," Hannibal grinned, putting out his cigar on the ground and checking his watch.

"Well, I hate to spoil the fun, but I think it's about time to round it all up. Are we ready guys?"

"Sure am. And I've got a hot date tonight", Face said flashing his pearly whites and looking overjoyed.
B.A gave him a look that meant "Oh boy," then shook his head.

While Hannibal kept Mitchell under gunpoint, they lifted the four (still fuzzy) thugs from the ground and threw them into the cage to accompany Mitchell and Dave. Murdock was sitting on his knees, drawing a new sign while babbling animatedly with Fred.

"Hey you can't leave us here!", Dave shouted when Murdock attached the freshly drawn signpost to the door that said WE ARE BAD GUYS. PLEASE ARREST US!, complemented with another smiley and a rather unnecessary arrow.

"Oh yes, kid. We sure can". Hannibal said calmly, adressing the younger man while sirens could be heard in the distance.

"The police is coming to investigate, and they will find a murdered man in the well. And amongst other things, they will find your murder weapon, fingerprints and they will find Patrick too. Lucky for you, you don't have to wait long for it."

Hannibal turned his head and smiled kindly at the young man. "That's service with a smile", he added teasingly.

Dave looked pale, and Mitchell slumped down to the ground, the last of his belligerent front collapsing.

B.A shouted, "Hannibal, we need to go, man!"

Finally feeling the pressure to hurry, the Colonel spun on his heels, quickly gesturing Murdock to follow him.
Murdock gave Dave one more long lasting piercing look before rushing to the van as well, the camera held tightly under his good arm.

With skidding wheels, the A-team finally drove off just before the police arrived.