A.N – I saw a few people read the last chapter, but nobody said anything. Why is that?

Where is the love, guys? Are you that shocked about it I left you speechless? Maybe the foul mouth of the Vette is too much for this show? (mind you, it's a car, nobody can hear his filthy, totally politically incorrect thoughts, haha)

Come on, don't be shy. Let me know what you think. Thanks.

– 7 –

(8)

While we waited for Decker, parked under a broken streetlamp, in a shadowy corner of Fourth Street, a very tall, rather burly hooker with the most ginormous, plastic boobs, knocked on our window. Hannibal rolled it down.

"Looking for a good time? I could do the two of you for 80 bucks," the redhead said with a husky, hardly ladylike voice.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. We're already fixed for the night," Hannibal said, overly polite.

"Don't you want seconds? Head only. I'll do all the hard work. For you, sexy studs… 50 bucks," she said, sending a filthy look my way while licking the red lipstick off her plump, silicone lips.

I shook my head slowly, pitying the fool. No chance in hell!

"40?"

"No, thanks. One of your pals sucked us dry already," Hannibal said with an embarrassed smile, sounding genuinely apologetical for his lack of sex drive. "We're waiting for a friend. He's coming in a flashy, white Corvette. Go get him when he shows up, because he'll give you a hefty tip."

"Yeah, that guy is loaded!" I chimed in, having a ball.

"Thanks, sugar. No worries," the hooker said, leaving our window to return to her corner, shaking her ass while tottering on a tacky pair of killer heels.

I sniggered, watching the sucka' go, back to her turf. Oh, man…

"Is that a…?"

"Yeah, sure," Hannibal said, also smiling. "That certainly looks like a she-male to me. Probably still well-endowed down there."

I laughed again, giggling like a naughty school girl, imagining Decker in action with a "girl" with a package.

We've been waiting at that corner for a while, watching the johns come and go, but no sight of that fool yet. Until we heard the unmistakable sound of the Vette's engine coming our way.

"There he comes! Get down!" Hannibal said when the car passed by.

Decker parked by the curb, over a hundred yards ahead of us.

A swarm of prostitutes in all shapes and sizes flew his way, including the one at our corner, who nearly kissed the pavement as she run for the money, staggering along on her extra high heels.

"That was so predictable... He chose the petite, Thai looking one," Hannibal said, using the binoculars again. "Let him go ahead a bit, and then we'll follow."

But we couldn't follow him, because as soon as the Vette set off, we got caught in a Vice Squad raid.

"Damn!" Hannibal cried when a dozen or so police cars arrived at the scene out of nowhere, blocking our way out ahead. "Go back! Go back!"

I quickly reversed at speed, crashing onto a dumpster, spreading rubbish all over the sidewalk, then made a fast U-turn, and we got the hell outta there in the opposite direction, before the police could get hold of us.

"Where do you think he went?" I said, looking back through the rearview mirror. The cops didn't bother following us, too busy already securing the nearest johns and as many prostitutes they could hold onto, as everybody scrambled in a chaotic stampede, trying to escape from them, as we did. Beyond that frenzy behind us, the Vette had already speeded up out of sight.

"I have no idea. The possibilities are endless. Damn, B.A.! It would have been so easy…"

"You bet," I said, speeding ahead, away from the police, and unfortunately, from Decker as well. "We done?"

"Yeah, there's no point looking for him all over Reno tonight, because chances are, we'll never find him. We'll go ahead with the plan: we'll take the Vette from that garage on Sunday. By the way, not a word of this to Face. He doesn't need to know."

"He won't."

I tried to imagine how would I feel if I knew Decker had sex with a prostitute in my van.

Gross! No way, man!

AAA

(37)

The transmitter signal got stationary for a while in a residential street in Bad Rock, but before we got there, the signal died.

"They found the second bug in the corvette," I said, registering the last spot where it has flashed on the screen. "I want to be there ASAP, so hit it, Corporal. If we are lucky, they may still be around."

Corporal Dempsey pressed the accelerator pedal as far as it could go, speeding way beyond the limit.

Damn! If I had access to another fast car like that bloody corvette, things would have been different. But a military Jeep has its limitations. And this ride is way too bumpy, in comparison.

When we got to our destination, Dempsey stumped the brakes, and the Jeep screeched to a halt in front of a house, which wasn't residential. It was a Day Clinic.

I smiled when I saw the name engraved on a plaque by the front door: Margaret Sullivan, MD.

Maggie.

I jumped out of the car, and only two steps on my way to the door, I spotted the broken remains of the transmitter, discarded on the car park's gravel. The A-Team was definitely here!

"Corporal, call for back up!"

The receptionist shrieked in fear when I stormed into that clinic, gun in hand.

"Military Police!"

I ignored her hysterical screams while searching the building, but I didn't find the A-Team; I only found a discarded syringe full of blood in the treatment room, and a few blood-stained swabs and dressings. Could that be Peck's?

"Where did they go?" I asked the distraught receptionist.

"Who?" she said, unable to think straight. "The patients? We sent them home."

I looked around, realizing for the first time the place was eerily empty, without any patients jam-packing the waiting room. And doctor "Maggie" was nowhere to be seen.

"An injured man with facial trauma was brought in. Did Doctor Sullivan treat him?"

"Yes, she did. But that poor man was too badly injured. They took him to the hospital."

"What hospital?"

"I don't know."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. I lifted my gun then, and aimed at her face.

"I think you do. That injured man is a criminal on the run, and if you don't cooperate, it will be considered obstruction of justice. So, tell me: what hospital?!" I shouted.

Terrified, she looked at the menacing gun as if it was a cobra about to attack, and then she kept talking, quite hurriedly.

"Maybe the Community General, in Reno. It's the closest. But I don't know, I swear!"

"Where is Doctor Sullivan? Did she go to the hospital with that man?"

She nodded again, and then she asked: "What's going on?"

But I was already on my way out, with no inclination to answer her silly questions.

AAA

(17)

I had a look-see, peeping through the filthy windows, and the place looked empty. According to plan, it looked like all the soldiers had gone out to chase the van, as they always do, but I still sneaked in and had a quick search of the place. I saw nobody.

The Vette was there, looking lonely, waiting to be taken, but I didn't have the spare keys. Face had them. Damn! It could have been done and dusted in a jiffy otherwise. However, it would be better for Face if he was the one rescuing his baby. More fitting that way, and it would make him feel better.

I searched for the other set of keys, just in case, but I couldn't find them, so in the end, I went back outside to wait for Face, hoping nobody would return to that garage before he appeared.

AAA

(18)

Man, don't stay there doing nothing! Come on! Take me out of here, you fool!

That guy with the loony cap definitely has to be retarded. Damn! Can't you see the guys hiding behind that partition? How can you be so blind?

No, no, no, no… Don't go! Don't go! Come back here, you moron! Don't leave me here!

Damn!

AAA

(39)

Before I left the clinic driving my car, I told Laura to keep quiet, and don't tell anybody I went to the hospital with that injured man. Just in case, I didn't tell her which hospital we would take Face, but the list of possible places was quite short. And if the military police would track the A-team's steps to my clinic, they'd soon find out where we went.

I wanted to share with Hannibal my concerns, but when I arrived at the Community General Emergency Department, the boys hadn't showed up yet. I looked at the reception and waiting area, but I didn't see them. However, someone else saw me.

"Good afternoon, Dr Sullivan," said Michelle, one of the nurses at the ER I had come to know over the years. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit today?"

"One of my clients, a young man. I don't know if he is here yet."

"What's his name?" she said, producing the list of admissions.

I hesitated then. What name could that be? Sure it would not be Mr. Peck… Damn! I should have checked with Hannibal what cover story he would use this time.

"I'm sorry, but I forgot. Will Smith, maybe? I was so worried he should get transferred here ASAP, I don't remember his details too well."

"No worries, it happens to all of us..." she said, checking the list. "Is he coming by ambulance?"

"No, someone else will bring him, in a private vehicle. We though that would be faster than waiting for an ambulance. But they should be here by now. Maybe they got stuck in traffic."

"What's wrong with him?"

"He took a nasty beating in… in a pub fight, I think, and apart from the obvious facial trauma and concussion, he's got internal bleeding. I think the spleen got burst with all those kicks he received."

"No, I don't remember a new admission fitting that description, and there is no Will Smith here…" the nurse said, finishing the list. "Not yet."

"He's A+. He'll need a transfusion right away, and he should have an exploratory laparotomy as soon as possible. Can you arrange for your surgical team to be prepared, please?"

"Sure, I'll tell them, right away. But we could also get ahead with the paper work, if you don't mind. Is your client insured?"

Damn. That very important detail of our medical system…

"No, I don't think so." The nurse frowned then, but before she could complain, I reassured her. "However, they look like the kind of clients that pay their bills, no problem."

"I'll take your word on that, Dr. Sullivan."

"And I'll take a gurney, if you don't mind, and wait for them outside. They shouldn't take long."

As soon as I got through the main door, the A-team's van arrived.

"How is he?" I asked Hannibal as he stepped down through the sliding door.

"Not good. Hurry up, please!"

By the time B.A. got off the van, Hannibal had already placed Face in the gurney.

"We didn't prepare a cover story. I said his name is Will Smith, and that he got beaten up in a pub brawl."

"My son. Perfect," Hannibal agreed, willing to use his inconspicuous, real surname. "Boys, hide the van, and wait for my call. Don't let Decker or anybody else see you close to this hospital."

"But, Colonel, I want to be with the Faceman," Murdock complained. "After all, this is all my fault, and—"

"Captain," Hannibal interrupted, "I'll stay with him, don't worry." He signaled B.A. then, who nodded with a grunt.

"Come on, you fool! I wanna stay too, but I do as I'm told! We're leaving!" B.A. said, dragging Murdock back to the van.

"Register now, and I'll see you in the waiting area," I said, pushing the gurney inside. In seconds, I was surrounded by doctors and nurses, eager to take over.

"Is that him?" Michelle said, already taking his heart rate, on the go.

"Yes, Will Smith."

I followed them into the ER, where I stayed for a while, answering questions as they started the first blood transfusion, until Michelle kindly sent me back to the waiting area, closing a door on my face.

And that's when I saw a military colonel checking the emergency rooms.

Damn! They are here already!

"Where's Lieutenant Peck?" he said when he spotted me. I played the innocent fool.

"Who? I don't know any Lieutenant Peck."

"Of course you do, Doctor Sullivan," he sneered, looking at the tag on my white coat. "But if it's easier for you, just tell me where Colonel Smith is."

Damn! He knows my name.

"All right, Colonel. I'll take you with Smith. Follow me," I said, trying to get him as far away from Face as I could.

I don't know how, but along the way, I managed to lock that man inside a storage room, and ran to the waiting room to warn Hannibal.

AAA

(42)

No, Hannibal! Don't let that blind fury cloud your judgement! I thought as I lay on the floor, dying.

But that's exactly what he did. He charged like a bull, out of his mind, and tackled that bastard down to the ground. With the impact, Decker lost his weapon, before he could use it on him.

They rolled on the floor then, fighting like rabid dogs, until Hannibal got on top, beating the crap out of Decker, delivering wild punches while seeing red. For a moment, it looked as if Hannibal would win that fight easily, until Decker produced another gun.

"Watch out!" I cried, but it was too late.

Decker swiftly shoved that gun into Hannibal's abdomen and fired three lethal, contact shots.

Hannibal jolted at each shot and fell to a side, mortally wounded, his guts burst within.

"NOOOOO!" I cried as Hannibal gasped for air like a fish out of water, while bleeding out from that ghastly wound, in agony. But I couldn't help him. Nobody could. Except Decker.

The son of a bitch got up and aimed at Hannibal again from above, showing a wicked smile, one that didn't belong on the face of a "compassionate" soul about to deliver a coup de grâce.

"So long, Smith. See you in hell."

He fired again, a single shot to the head this time, that spread Hannibal's brains all over the place.

The ominous blast echoed in that corridor, and while it lasted, I could not believe what had just happened.

And that's when I woke up, screaming mad.

"HANNIBAAAAL!"

"For Christ sake, hold him down!" someone cried behind me. "Help! He woke up!"

A few hands rushed to hold me down. Someone else slapped an oxygen mask on my battered face, this time seeping a sweet anesthetic gas into my broken nose and mouth as I gasped, desperate to get free from the firm hold of those cruel hands that pinned me down to the ER table, until I started to drift off again, back to the dark limbo where I had been for the last two hours.

The last thing I saw before I passed out, was a transfusion bag dangling over my head, dripping precious blood into my veins.

AAAAA