Chapter Four
"Frankie, where's Murdock?"
Frankie looked up from the car magazine he had been studying. BA loomed in front of his chair, with Hannibal next to him. Murdock was nowhere in sight, and Frankie belatedly realized that he hadn't seen the man for a while.
He didn't want to meet BA's eyes, so he turned to Hannibal. "Ah, in the bathroom?" he stuttered, fervently hoping it was true.
Hannibal raised his eyebrows, then looked at BA. BA grimaced and nodded. Hannibal walked back to the hallway. He looked both directions, shrugged, and walked back into the waiting room. He picked up a magazine, and sat down.
BA and Frankie watched him. When Hannibal was seated, BA rolled his eyes, sighed loudly, and--muttering ominously-walked over to the window. He stared out of it, continuing to grumble under his breath.
Worried, Frankie got out of his chair. He crossed the waiting room, then the hallway, and entered the men's room. He emerged, frowning, and walked over to Hannibal. "He's not in there," he reported. "You want me to go look for him?"
Hannibal shook his head. "Sit down, Frankie," he said.
"But. . . but . . . ," Frankie protested, "I mean, ah, I know I was supposed to be watching him." He paused, then added lamely, "He said he was going to find the john."
Hannibal grinned. "He did, did he?" he said, with a glance at the prominently marked restrooms.
Neither he nor BA seemed concerned about the missing Murdock. Nor were they checking on Face's condition. Frankie was confused. This wasn't like the guys-especially after all the trouble they'd had earlier. They usually kept tabs on each other pretty good, and this laissez-faire attitude wasn't them at all. He paced the room, mentally worrying the problem.
Hannibal looked up at him. "Sit down, Frankie," he said, "You're making people nervous."
"I'll go look for him," Frankie offered.
"Don't bother," said Hannibal, "he's fine."
"Crazy fool," BA grumbled, "Gonna get us all in trouble again."
"You don't think he's gonna turn up in the kitchen," Frankie said, looking from one to the other, "or . . . or an operating room, or something?" He looked back at the hallway.
Hannibal sighed. "He's in with Face," he said.
Frankie's jaw dropped. "He's what?" he sputtered, "Those nurses kicked us out of there."
Hannibal tossed the magazine back on the table. He hadn't been reading anyway. It was merely something with which to occupy his hands, since he couldn't have a cigar in here. "Sit down, Frankie," he repeated, looking pointedly at Frankie. He added, "Murdock's gotta work this out himself."
Frankie perched on the edge of a chair, expecting a tirade from Hannibal. Instead, the man leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Frankie shifted in the chair, and glanced at BA, who-unusually contemplative-- continued staring out the window. A rare smile flashed across BA's face, and disappeared just as quickly.
Sliding back in the chair until he was properly settled, Frankie looked again at Hannibal. He appeared tired, and it occurred to Frankie that neither he nor BA had slept since they brought Face here. And probably not since they'd got back from that mission of Stockwell's, he thought.
"Hannibal." BA's voice sounded a warning note. Hannibal's eyes opened. Two hospital security guards passed by the glass wall of the waiting room, heading toward the ICU.
"Uh-oh," said Hannibal, rising from his chair. He headed for the doorway. "C'mon, guys," he said, "I don't want to call Stockwell again."
They followed the guards into the ICU. A nurse stood in front of the guards, talking stridently and gesturing toward the room where Face was. Hannibal frowned, and headed for that cubicle. As they passed the group, the nurse stepped in front of them. The guards loomed to either side of her, barring the way.
"You are not to be here," she insisted.
"Look, lady," said Hannibal, "We'll get him out of there. If you send in your buddies there, there's gonna be trouble."
"I want them all out of here," she insisted, ignoring him and looking at the guards, "Now." One guard moved toward the room, the other stayed beside her, glaring at the team.
"BA," Hannibal said. BA followed the moving guard. The second guard started after him, until Hannibal grabbed the man by the arm. "I wouldn't do that," Hannibal cautioned, "He's in a bad mood."
"Outta my way," BA said to the guard. He shoved the man away from the cubicle doorway and went in. The blinds to the cubicle were again closed, but muffled, indistinct voices drifted from it. BA reappeared in the doorway, dragging a scowling, protesting Murdock with him. The bewildered security guard followed.
The other nurse walked out of Face's room, looking irritated. "What is going on?" she demanded.
"These men are disturbing the unit," said the first nurse, "I called security to remove them."
The second nurse brushed a lock of hair from her face with an exasperated sigh. "There was no disturbance, Jean," she said, "until you called those guys."
"Right," Jean said sarcastically. She pointed at Murdock. "He's not supposed to be in here, yelling and bothering the other patients. I told him so. They have to leave."
"He's my patient," responded the other, "I'll decide who can and can't be with him." She returned to the room.
Miffed, Jean turned to the security guards. "Remove them," she ordered. The guards stepped forward.
"Relax," said Hannibal, "We're going." He took Murdock's other arm, and-with a look at Frankie-left the unit, trailed by the security guards.
When they returned to the waiting room, the guards conferred. Then one left, and the remaining guard posted himself by the doorway of the waiting room.
"Nice," observed Hannibal, "a babysitter."
"Fool," growled BA at Murdock, "You almost got us kicked outta the hospital."
Murdock was silent. He resumed his former position at the window. Hannibal and BA arranged themselves in chairs, forming a gauntlet through which Murdock would have to pass to leave the room. Frankie chose a seat near BA, folding himself into a chair. He hesitantly reached for another magazine, keeping a wary eye on the other three.
Hannibal's eyes were again closed, but Frankie doubted that he was asleep. BA also appeared to be dozing. Murdock stood at the window, unnaturally still. All three looked peaceful enough. The tension in the room, however, was almost palpable. Even the guard seemed to feel it, as he shifted and glanced nervously at the four of them. Frankie turned his attention to the magazine, hoping to lose himself in it.
He awoke to the sound of arguing. Soft as though not to disturb others, it still had a heated intensity. Disoriented, he bolted out of the chair and scanned the room.
The lights had been dimmed, in deference to the night hours, but the room was still decently lighted. The security guard was gone. In his place, stood Stockwell and two of his "Ables," each about the size of BA. The team was also at the doorway, BA and Murdock looking agitated and Hannibal coldly furious. Frankie listened, trying to catch up on the situation.
"-agreed to two weeks off, Stockwell," Hannibal was saying, "We're not going anywhere."
"We ain't goin' nowhere," rumbled BA, "till Faceman's outta this hospital."
"We have an agreement," Stockwell said mildly, with his irritating smile, "You gentlemen haven't finished with your part of it yet. This matter in South America cannot wait for Lieutenant Peck."
"You can take your 'matter in South America'," interrupted Murdock, "And put it where the sun don't shine. You expect us to pick up and move on like we've lost some supplies?" He gestured angrily at the ICU door. "That happens to be a person lying in there, not some piece of replaceable equipment." He moved toward Stockwell, and the Ables stepped forward, menacingly. Murdock ignored them, concentrating on Stockwell. "We're all getting a little fed up with your chess piece attitude," he spat.
"You're free to leave anytime, Captain," Stockwell said, "Unlike the others, you don't need a presidential pardon." He paused, and his smile hardened. "I'm sure the Veterans Administration-among others--would be quite interested in your whereabouts. Considering your, ah, 'history', the local office might want to keep closer tabs on you."
Murdock's face darkened. Frankie stared, and BA looked at Murdock, startled. Even Hannibal couldn't suppress a flicker of surprise at Stockwell's words. The two Ables watched impassively.
"You will return to Langley," Stockwell continued, "accompanied by Able Five and Able Ten. You will remain there until further notice. Any questions?"
Murdock started to protest, fist raised. BA restrained him, and Hannibal stepped between Murdock and Stockwell. The two agents produced handguns from beneath their jackets, leveling them at the team. Stockwell cocked his head at Hannibal, swept his arm toward the elevator and asked, "Shall we?"
Hannibal shot a look at Stockwell, then the others. He headed toward the elevator, accompanied by Stockwell. The first agent gestured with his weapon. Murdock shut his mouth and followed Hannibal and Stockwell, shadowed by the agent. Frankie scurried to catch up to them. BA and the second agent brought up the rear.
The hospital seemed deserted. Third shift had few visitors, and the reduced staff was apparently occupied with their duties. The few people they encountered on their way out regarded them with raised eyebrows, puzzled looks, and occasionally no reaction at all. The agents had replaced their weapons in their holsters before escorting the team out, so as not to unduly panic any civilians.
The van had been brought to the hospital entrance, and parked behind Stockwell's limousine. A chauffeur sprang to attention, opening the back door of the limousine.
"After you, Colonel," Stockwell invited, "Your men will return via Sergeant Baracus' van, along with Able Five and Able Ten." He smiled thinly. "It will make things easier for everyone."
Hannibal's face was expressionless. He looked at the team, shrugged, and entered the limousine, followed by Stockwell. The chauffeur closed the door, walked around to the driver's side, and got in. The limousine moved off.
With a look that dared Able Ten to object, BA got in the driver's seat of the van. The agent occupied the seat next to him. Able Five gestured for Murdock and Frankie to get in, then seated himself next to the sliding door. BA started the van, and pulled away from the hospital entrance.
The ride back to Langley was quiet. Darkness had settled on Washington, and the many landmarks that were visible by day were muffled by the combination of streetlight glare and darkness. BA drove sullenly, sparing an occasional glare at Able Ten. In the far back of the van, Frankie fidgeted, watching out of the rear windows.
Seated in his usual position in the van, Murdock brooded. He knew Able Five was watching him, randomly glancing at both Frankie and BA. The fact that the team was back under surveillance aggravated him, and he knew it was his fault. But, he thought, if we had been under surveillance earlier, maybe they could have got help for Face sooner. No way, he argued back, if they'd still been under surveillance, Face and Frankie would never have come to the restaurant.
Isn't that the point? said a small voice in his head.
Murdock snorted angrily, shifting in his seat. He saw BA's eyes glance questioningly at him via the rearview mirror. He shrugged back in answer. Able Five was still watching him covertly, hand resting near his holstered weapon. Murdock glared at the agent, crossed his arms, and slid down in his seat. He pulled the baseball cap down and closed his eyes.
The thrum of the bridge decking as they crossed the Potomac caused him to reopen them. Traffic was relatively light, and BA was making good time. Even the traffic lights appeared to cooperate. Still, it was not the direction they wanted to be going.
His thoughts drifted back to the last update on Face, which they had gotten just before Stockwell arrived with his goons. The nurse who had given it to them had seemed sympathetic, much like the one who had let him stay with Face. Are all hospitals that fractured in their staff? he wondered, remembering the other nurse, the one who had called hospital security. He didn't remember the VA hospital he'd left being that way. Maybe it was different in this kind of hospital.
No change, she had said. Face was still unconscious. His vitals were-what did she call them? Oh, yeah, "iffy." Interesting medical definition, he mused. No response to pain stimuli, she had also said, and something to the effect that they may have to consider "going back in." That didn't sound good either.
The van slowed, turning into the driveway to the Langley complex. Stockwell's limousine was already there. That in itself was a relief, for Stockwell could have spirited Hannibal somewhere else in an attempt to make the team cooperate. The chauffeur stood at the side of it, waiting, which meant Hannibal and Stockwell were already inside.
Able Ten motioned for BA to stop the van. Able Five got out and indicated for Murdock and Frankie to come with him. The van moved away, heading toward the garage.
The three men entered the complex. Hannibal was seated in his chair, facing the L-shaped couches. Stockwell stood near the fireplace. Both men looked as though they'd just ended a heated argument.
Stockwell gestured for Murdock and Frankie to join them. They glanced at each other, then sat on the couch, facing Hannibal. Able Five took up a position behind them.
"We'll wait for Sergeant Baracus," Stockwell said.
BA arrived shortly after, accompanied by Able Ten. At Stockwell's invitation, he seated himself on the remaining empty couch.
Stockwell moved to the junction of the two couches, and surveyed the men seated there. Hannibal gazed back, grimly patient. BA scowled at Able Ten and Five, who had positioned themselves on either side of Stockwell. Arms crossed, Frankie looked at the floor. Murdock glared at Stockwell, but said nothing.
"I will grant your request to remain here until Lieutenant Peck either recovers. . ." Stockwell said, "or does not. No missions." Surprised, the team looked at him. "However, gentlemen, you will remain here, until that occurs." He looked at each of them in turn, his gaze resting the longest on Murdock. "If he is to recover, the hospital staff would prefer work without interference. You will be updated on a regular basis."
He indicated Able Five and Ten. "The surveillance teams will be in place. I know that in the past you have amused yourselves with them. Be aware that they now have orders to shoot first and ask questions after." He looked at the team. "This situation will require some . . . ," he hesitated, then smiled, ". . . delicate handling." He nodded to Able Five and Ten. They exited, disappearing into positions on the grounds.
He looked pointedly at Murdock. "Since Peck's room is unoccupied at the moment," he said, "I suggest you make use of it. It will be more comfortable than the sofa." Murdock jerked as if he'd been slapped.
Stockwell bowed slightly to the team. "Good night, gentlemen," he said, and walked out into the night.
To be continued
