PART 11
"BA?" Murdock hissed into his radio mike, relieved when he heard the big man respond. "What do you see?"
"Two guards out the back," BA replied. "Nothing we can't handle."
Murdock smiled grimly. "OK big guy, wait for the word." He could just sense those familiar features twist into a scowl as BA snapped. "Of course!"
Murdock turned back to the others. "BA's got the back door sorted, so now we go in the front!"
"Be careful," Amy said as she and Mo and Drake turned to get back into the van where they would wait. Each one threw supportive glances to the four men who shouldered their semi automatics and prepared to advance on to the industrial unit.
"You ready?" Murdock asked.
Kyle flashed a bright wide smile. "Am I ever?" he said. "Mess with my kid brother's girl and you mess with me. Mess with me and you pay."
Murdock nodded – he liked this guy a soon as he met him from the tip of the blond buzz cut on his head to the end of his regulation army boots. They had talked through the plan, the possible repercussions to Kyle and his men's army careers if it all went wrong and the lieutenant had just smiled confidently and said, "I don't like bullies! This needs arranging!"
And so here they were to arrange it. As they moved forward Murdock prayed like hell that this was all going to work out OK and tried not to think of what would happen if it did not.
"Han'bal?" Face sensed his voice was slurred and weak. He was blinking blindly, trying to force his consciousness above oblivion level so his senses would kick in but he was cold and tired and the darkness promised such comfort; it was so hard to fight it!
But like a lighthouse through the rolling mists the Colonel's voice came strong and brilliant to steer him to safety. "I'm here, kid," Hannibal said and Peck felt strong hands clutching his shoulders in support.
"Shit, Hannibal… I can't…"
"Yes, yes you can, Face."
Peck rubbed a shuddering hand across his forehead. "Drug," he murmured. "She gave me something……"
"I know. How do you feel?"
"Like a goddamn dish cloth! I can't…"
The strong hands helped him up to a sitting position and he felt a cool mop on his sweating brow.
"Breathe deep," Hannibal ordered. "That's it, in and out, in and out, kid. Give yourself time to come round, let that shit get out of your system."
As his sense trickled through him, his memory returned too and he jerked forwards. "Shannon!" he hissed.
"S'OK," Hannibal drawled. "She's over there see, sleeping. They haven't done anything to her yet and we have to get her out before they do, don't we, Lieutenant?"
Face looked across to where Hannibal indicated and saw the girl, lying curled up on her side, small and fragile, blonde hair splayed out on the floor like an exotic fan. Her face was flushed and slightly swollen from crying and her breathing was punctuated by sobs but he could see no other injuries. He nodded, licking his lips and concentrating on trying to move but it was so difficult. He could not recall but he must have been beaten again, his face felt tight and tender now, his right leg was stiff and immovable, breathing was difficult and he sensed the feel of bruised ribs. He lay back against the wall, breathing as deeply as his ribs would allow; moving was going to be difficult indeed.
He looked up and saw the ghostly Hannibal staring at him an amused glimmer twinkling in his eye. "You really get yourself into some scrapes, don't you, kid?"
Peck sighed. He looked at his hands saw his fingers were twisted out of shape, bloodied and beaten. He couldn't remember that happening but they were next to useless now. Still, in the numb
and deadened world he inhabited at least he felt no pain, yet.
"Hann'bal," his voice was weak and lacking fight. "I can't do this. I can't…." he shook his head slowly. "She's won."
"No!" A simple statement but said with such conviction that Peck's head lurched up and he looked into those deep, uncompromising eyes. "She hasn't, Face," Hannibal continued. "We won't let her. You're not done; come on let's look at the facts."
"Facts?" Peck groaned. "I'm beaten almost to death, can't stand, not gonna be playing the piano any time soon, doped up higher than the space shuttle on some shit our friendly pharmacist from hell jacked up especially for me. Got a damned pregnant innocent teenager pulled into this to share whatever grisly fate awaits me." He took a few breaths. "Man; I am too goddamn old for this!"
Hannibal just waited while Peck whined, his wide, confident smile playing along his lips. "Don't you just love it?" he beamed. Face groaned. "Got a cigar?" the Colonel asked. Peck rolled his eyes and raised his arms in an empty gesture. Hannibal sighed, "Maybe not," he muttered.
"Now let's look at the real facts, enough of the barriers, Lieutenant." The Colonel seemed to sit down beside him resting a firm hand on Peck's knee. "Do you remember a long time ago, Face when you and me had one of our talks, probably the very first one, in fact? My office DaNang. Just after you'd gone over the wire and frozen stiff as a statue. Do you remember, Face?"
Peck gulped, nodding his head slowly as his mind was bombarded with all sorts of memories. He picked through them carefully, looking for the right one, forcing his flitting mind to stop, to concentrate. His aching senses recalled it was a close, hot night. The prattle of insects from the surrounding jungle was loud and annoying. He remembered waiting outside as Murdock talked to the Colonel, trying desperately to look nonchalant while the little boy inside him screamed in consternation. And the fear, the frustration about losing his control, about being unable to be the soldier the Colonel wanted twisting his gut. Through the vagueness of the drug he remembered with frighteningly concise clarity.
Hannibal continued, "When I told you runningaway was not going to solve your particular problem? Well, you haven't run away from a single damn thing since than and I'm not about to let you start now, Lieutenant!"
"Run!" Face said weakly. "I don't believe I've got the capability to run anywhere right now!"
The Colonel's eyes were wide with honesty as he ignored the comment and continued, "I told you that you were a fighter, kid. And that you needed to find the right person to bring it out in a positive way. Well, I brought it out of you and proved that you could succeed at something, something that benefits the rest of the world and not just yourself. I proved that you're not the failure you thought you were but that you actually have some value, some positive reason for being here. The light inside you frightened you the most and I showed you it burned so bright in you. I gave you a place in my Team, a place where you were cherished, where you had worth. I did not reject you. I gave you the chance to shine, and that's exactly what you did, Lieutenant. And I'll be damned if I let you throw it all away now!"
"But I can't…"
"Yes, you can Face! Murdock is coming. You just have to hold on and keep the girl safe. You can do that for me – can't you?"
Peck opened his mouth to argue but found himself smiling ruefully instead. "You are still one crazy son of a bitch!" he murmured.
"Crazy maybe, but you're not arguing with me!" The Colonel was smiling also. "So are we gonna do this thing or not?"
Peck held the older man's gaze and suddenly felt safe in the confidence he saw in those deep eyes, safer than he had for many years. No one had ever spoken to him in the way his Colonel did. No one had ever taken the time to see behind his façade like Hannibal had. Peck felt suddenly and powerfully special. "Yes Sir!" he sighed with acceptance.
Hannibal laughed. "I love it when…"
Peck snorted, "… a plan comes together!" he finished resignedly as the Colonel guffawed happily.
"Shannon!" Peck whispered as he gently rocked her. "Shannon, wake up!"
He had awoken in a heap some moments before, his body stiff and wracked with pain. He had managed to quell the gagging sensation that crawled up his gullet by swallowing deeply. Every move brought pain so he had lain completely still, waiting for it to subside.
Eventually he managed to find enough energy to take in his surroundings. He was in the familiar room but over in the corner he perceived Shannon lying motionless. Ignoring the pain and the nausea Face had forced himself to crawl on trembling knees to her side. He was chained by a manacle around his left ankle to the wall but thankfully there was enough chain to allow him to move to the girl.
He remembered vaguely his conversation with Hannibal – it had happened, hadn't it? He knew it did him no good to ponder over it now. What was important was that he had promised to look after Shannon, whether his Colonel had been real or not was immaterial, the mission was what took precedence, so he focused all of his remaining energy in achieving what he had promised.
"Shannon," he tried again.
Suddenly her body tensed, her eyes flicked open, wide and wild and she began to scream, penetrating through the silence. Peck started in stunned surprise. He really did not want to attract attention from Lorelei before he needed to!
"Sssshhh!" he hissed, desperately throwing a glance over his shoulder towards the door. Realising he had to stop her and quickly, he pushed his hand over her mouth. It muffled the noise but caused Shannon's panic to intensify and she thrashed about manically. It took long moments before Peck managed to stop her and hold her still; even then her eyes still flashed her terror.
"Promise to stop screaming and I'll let you go. Promise!" Peck pushed.
Finally the reason seeped back into her gaze. She gulped and nodded slowly and he relaxed his grip, turning on his most warming smile. "Hi," he said, "I'm Templeton Peck but you can call me Face."
She nodded and sniffed back her tears. "I know who you are," she replied weakly. "Drake told me all about you." She lifted herself on her elbows to a sitting position, glancing around herself. Then as if she suddenly remembered, she looked back at Peck. "Are you OK?" fear had turned to concern.
He sighed. "I have to admit I've been better," he disclosed.
She gulped, tears moistening her eyes once more. "They made me watch, while they… while they beat you." She reached out shaking hands to him. "That had to hurt."
He smiled accepting her touch. "I was pretty out of it to be honest," he replied. "It stings a bit now though!"
"Let me help you," she said.
"I'm fine, really," Peck's voice didn't sound convincing even to him.
She knelt beside him. "No, you're not. Let me help you." Soft, tender hands ran along his ribs. She ripped off strips from her jacket and bound them up tightly. She used his shirt to wipe away the dried blood that had run down his face from a cut above his eye. And then she cleaned an evil gash in his right thigh.
He could remember suffering none of these injuries. Shannon sniffed, "After she gave you the drug, you were out of it but that woman instructed them to beat you. You were bleeding, your head, your leg, everywhere! And your hands!" She took hold of them gently, wrapping the remaining shreds of shirt around then to support as best she could. "She ground them into the floor with her stilettos – you screamed so loud. I will never forget the sound."
Peck gulped as Shannon began to sob again. "Hey, Shannon, it's OK," he soothed as he took hold of her and held her close. "They'll heal. Come on, don't get upset. I'm fine. Let's talk about something else."
She took in a deep ragged breath but nodded. "What?"
In truth the pain was beginning to ravage through Peck as the drugs finally wore off but he was trying desperately to ignore it or at least force it away. Exhaustion too was circling about him like a buzzard waiting to swoop. But he knew he had to be strong; Shannon needed him now. "The team are coming," he said. "We just have to last until they get here, Shannon. You can do that can't you?" She pursed her lips and nodded. "Talking always helps me when I'm scared so tell me about you, Shannon. Tell me what you are going to do with your life. Tell me your hopes and dreams."
She started hesitantly at first but soon her beautiful eyes were sparking with animation as she verbalised her dreams for herself, for Drake and for the baby still growing in her womb with youthful enthusiasm. She rested her head on Peck's shoulder as she spoke and Face closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift.
"Who were you talking to?" The question brought Peck back from his reverie. "What?" he asked.
"After they beat you, when you were almost unconscious and before I slept, you were mumbling most of it but I heard distinct words. It was like you were having a conversation."
Peck smiled. "I was," he replied enigmatically.
"But there was nobody here."
Peck drew in a deep breath, feeling his ribs grate. "I've been in situations like this often enough to know you get your courage where you can, Shannon."
She gazed at him for a while, appeared about to ask him something else but then stopped. "You're a very brave, man," she said finally.
He snorted. "No, I'm as scared as they come I just have the ability to hide it well."
She smiled warmly. "Drake says you're the best conman in the world."
Whenever she said the boy's name her mouth split into a loving smile. Peck noted it and felt the itch of jealousy – had a woman ever spoken his name which such obvious love? A pang of regret hit him as he guessed the answer was no. Then memories of the last conversation he had had with Drake, the promise he had made and Lorelei taunting him because of it, came back to Peck and he felt himself flush. "I have my moments," he mumbled modestly. "Talk to me some more…." he began.
"About what? I told you all about my family," Shannon said.
"OK," he was fighting to keep his voice stable, stop her from hearing the pain that was tormenting him.
She looked at him, eyes wide with sympathy. "You're hurting," she said. "I wish I had some painkillers, something to give you."
His smile was forced this time. "I'm fine. Tell me about… tell me your favorites."
"My favorites?"
"Yeah, color, music, fashion house, film…"
She sighed. "OK but only if you play too. You have to spill some of your secrets – less of the inscrutable conman!"
He smiled at that even though it hurt. His nod was weary but he agreed. They spent the next few minutes going through a long list. Shannon had never heard of half of his but she was polite enough to smile sweetly as he sensed her ignorance and explained tiredly, his pain and the after effects of the drugs allowing him to reveal more than he probably should. She held his bandaged hands tightly and he was grateful for her simple companionship that helped him endure.
She lifted her head slightly and regarded him, eyes wide with innocence and youth. "So what's your biggest disappointment?" she asked.
"My biggest disappointment?" he repeated, playing for time, knowing he had already told this teenage girl more about himself than most every other woman he had ever met, suspecting he should tell no more. But she deserved his openness surely – what harm could it do? She was honest and decent, and she, like him, may be dead within the hour. What difference would it make if he told her the truth? How would he damage their relationship for the time they had left if he lied now.
She was still watching him and he wondered whether she was aware of the argument within him – maybe she was more perceptive than she appeared. He licked his lips nervously, feeling the pain but refusing to acknowledge it. "That's a difficult one," he said finally.
She smiled. "Because you have no disappointments?" she asked.
He rolled his eyes. "Because I have too many. Things I should have done and things I shouldn't have but did!" He looked away from her then and sighed again. "In truth probably the biggest thing I regret is that I will never hear my son's laughter."
"You have a son?" she started.
"No, not as far as I know, and I've been very careful about that – always take precautions, with a lifestyle like mine you have to! And that is my disappointment." He gulped, placing a hesitant hand on the small bump that was just beginning to show in Shannon's belly. "I always thought that one day I would… that when my pardon came, I could settle down, have a family like other men." He gulped.
"I don't see you as a white picket fence type, Face," she said but her smile was not mocking, instead it was full of empathy for him.
"It was just never the right time," his eyes were bright, his smile almost painted on. "And now it's just too late." He sniffed, withdrawing his hand as if it had been scolded. "Hell; it's better this way – I'd have made an awful father anyway; too shallow, too selfish."
Shannon squeezed his hands tightly, put her head back down on his shoulder. "I don't think so. Maybe the man you show to the world but not the real man, the one you keep hidden beneath – he would be a wonderful father."
Face opened his mouth to argue but the rattle of distant guns stopped him. "What?" Shannon asked lifting her head from his shoulder again.
"Murdock!" Face breathed, sitting forward as hope blossomed within him.
TBC