Duty Is Color Blind
Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.
Chapter 25 Whitman's Downfall
Hannibal heard Murdock yell his threat at the four men who had invaded the hangar. He wrenched the chain of the handcuffs against the import merchant's throat. Whitman's eyes bulged and his face reddened. A trickle of blood escaped from under the tightening chain and stained his shirt collar. He flailed at his neck in vain and rasped, "Alright! Alright! Don't kill me!"
"Tell them to drop their weapons! Say it!"
"Tony! Sonny! Vic! Abe! You others! Put your weapons on the ground! Do it now!" Whitman grimaced as Hannibal kept the pressure on his throat. Tony and Sonny appeared from the rear of the building and followed the others in obeying their boss' orders.
"Tell them to go to that plane over there and get in it. Tell them if I see one of them try to get to the guns, I'll kill you. I won't have any regrets doing it either." The Colonel shifted the cigar to the corner of his mouth and grinned. Hearing Murdock's voice was all he had needed to gain control over his emotions and the situation.
Whitman repeated his instructions and his men and the two corrupt officers slowly and reluctantly trudged to the passenger door of the small airplane and got in.
Hannibal heard a low rumble and metallic squeak from somewhere beyond the hangar. Dragging Whitman to his feet, the Colonel forced the imports merchant to walk toward the building.
"Captain, I'm coming in and I have a little gift for you." Hannibal called out.
"Hannibal? That you?" Relief was evident in the pilot's tone. "Come ahead."
As soon as Murdock heard Hannibal's greeting and acknowledged it, he allowed his body and mind to relax into the darkness that had threatened since he was overturned from the cot.
A wave of anger rushed through the Colonel when he saw Murdock's condition. There was no mistaking the pilot had been wounded during the gunfire. One leg of the khaki pants had been cut off just above the blood-soaked bandage. The bandage seemed to grow redder with each passing minute.
"Mr. Bartholomew, if you would go into this man's pants pocket and get the keys to the cuffs, I would appreciate it." The rumble of heavy machinery came to a halt outside the rear of the hangar and moments later B. A. entered.
"Hannibal, what you want me to do with that bulldozer out there?" The burly man cast a frowning glance at the doctor as he checked Murdock's vital signs and bandaged leg wound.
The Colonel grinned as Bart unlocked the cuffs. "Put the blade up on it and park it against the passenger's door of that airplane out there. I want the contents of that aircraft secured." Hannibal twisted Whitman's hands behind him and tightened the handcuffs around his wrists. Bart went to his son, sitting on the floor beside him and holding him closely.
As B. A. followed orders, Face parked the van in front of the hangar and hurried inside. "I called the Drug Enforcement District Office in Riverside and told them about Whitman bringing the shipment out here. They assured me they have agents in the area on their way. How is he?" The Lieutenant stared at his friend's prone figure and the blood soaking through the makeshift shop towel bandage. He moved past the Colonel and into a position beside Murdock.
"I got back here as fast as I could, buddy. You're going to be alright." Face rested a hand on the pilot's shoulder and sought reassurance from the doctor but found little.
Murdock stirred and mumbled, "Faceman? Not gonna be flyin' for awhile, amigo. Tell B. A. Make his day. 'lright?"
"I'll tell him." Face glanced toward Hannibal. The Colonel's normally composed expression was gone, replaced by a look very rarely seen: one of despair. The young Lieutenant's muscles tensed and he fiercely turned back to his friend, not willing to give up.
Hannibal dragged Whitman over to the end of the barricade. B. A. returned from his duty outside and followed the Colonel. He stood, clenching his fists. His lips silently formed the words of a prayer his mother had written down for him before he went to Viet Nam. The paper it was written on was torn and bloodstained but the words had been committed to memory over the years.
The doctor's grim look told them everything. "Now can I get that ambulance for my patients?" He glared at the Colonel.
The soft laugh that emerged from Murdock's mouth startled all of them. "Can't do that, doc. I gotta stay with my unit. Gotta stay . . . " His face pinched with pain and he gripped Face's wrist. "Don' let Hannibal send me to the hospital."
The Colonel took in a deep breath and held it before releasing it. "Is there any way we can get treatment for him without getting the hospital involved?" Damn Murdock's stubborn nature anyway!
Face gazed into the doctor's eyes. "Without any of us being able to stay with him, Murdock will likely flip out. If I know my buddy, he'll find a way to escape as soon as no one's looking. If he does that while he's having a flashback, it could be dangerous for him and anyone who tries to stop him."
Doctor Hernandez flinched, remembering the terror of the flashback that resulted in Bart's son being wounded.
"What about setting him up in my home? I'm a single father and my daughter is away from home at college. I have a spare bedroom for the Captain. Colonel Smith and his men can stay there and you can monitor his condition. You're on vacation anyway, Manny, and remember you owe me." Bart kept his eyes on the suffering contorted expression of the pilot. "I owe him one, too," he added softly.
"But what about the bullet? It has to come out." The doctor argued, mounting frustration lacing his voice.
"You know anything about field surgery, doc?" Hannibal's eyes took on a flinty appearance. "We do. In Nam we had to be medics sometimes when the actual medic was wounded or killed. It isn't the most perfect setting to remove a bullet, but a spare bedroom is a helluva lot better place than the edge of a rice paddy or a tropical jungle." The Colonel gave the doctor a humorless smile. "Besides, you'll be there to guide my hands if you don't want the responsibility of doing it yourself."
"And the head injury?"
"Has he shown improvement?"
"Well . . . he has been conscious for longer periods of time and his quick thinking kept us from being killed. If we can keep him very quiet . . ."
B. A. snorted at that and muttered, "In your dreams, doc. Crazy man love to talk."
Doctor Hernandez shot the muscular Sergeant an irritated look. ". . . he may continue to improve. I need your word that if I see signs of his condition deteriorating, he goes immediately to the hospital."
Hannibal hated being locked into promises that might be detrimental to the team but he would be damned if he would let a man on his team die because of it. "Agreed, doc."
"Hannibal . . ." Murdock moaned. "No hospital."
"Don't worry about that, Captain. When you get better we won't have to cross that bridge, now will we?" The older man's voice was strained and weary. Face glanced up at the tone. What he saw in both Hannibal and B. A.'s expressions was not reassuring.