Keeper of the Truth
Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.
Chapter 4
Murdock slouched in the chair the shopkeeper offered him when she returned from making the phone call. She had reminded him of the war and now the memories were buzzing around in his head like angry hornets. More than once he removed his glasses and swiped his hand over his eyes to stop them from being so blurry.
Damn glasses! Mus' be prescription lenses.
She handed him a cup of steaming light brown liquid. "I thought you might like to have something to drink. They're sending someone to take you to see my friend. My name is Delia Depreysie and I'm the owner of this establishment."
"Merle Somers. Sorry 'bout all this trouble I'm makin' for ya." He gave her his most forlorn look and hoped it left the right impression.
"No trouble at all. I'm glad to help anyone who needs it." She smiled and held out the cup.
Nodding mutely, he accepted it and, trying not to be obvious, sniffed the aroma of the contents. If it was a sedative or poison, it might have a smell to warn him. The aroma was familiar and brought him back to his childhood in Sour Lake, Texas.
Gramma used t' drink this for her stomach problems.
"It's chamomile. My ex-husband's favorite," the store owner murmured. A faint smile made her seem less ominous. "Not bat's blood, witches' brew or poison." Putting a small tray on a side table, she gestured toward the creamer canister and sugar packets. "Help yourself."
He emptied a packet of sugar into the cup and stirred the contents. Aware of her intent gaze, he sipped at the tea and waited for a reaction.
She wouldn' try 'n' poison me if they wanna recruit me. More likely, she'll slip me a mild sedative t' make sure I'm more agreeable t' goin' with 'em.
"So where do you come from . . . originally, I mean?" Delia asked, her hands busy doctoring her own cup of tea with powdered creamer and sugar.
"A li'l town in the southeastern part o' Texas. Sour Lake. It ain' far from Beaumont. Ya prob'ly never heard of it but it's kind o' where the big oil company Texaco got its start." Murdock took another sip of tea. He wasn't sure but he thought the store owner hesitated for just a second when she heard the name Texaco.
"What an exciting place to grow up with all of that oil exploration going on around you! Did you have family who worked the oil wells?" Delia went behind the cashier's counter and brought out a large red tin. Removing the cover, she brought the container over to Murdock. "Have a cookie. They're store-bought. I'm afraid I'm not much of a baker."
The pilot paused, wondering if he should take one or not. If the tea wasn't laced with something, maybe the cookies were.
Not until Delia herself bit into one of the cookies did Murdock take one.
Taking another mouthful of tea, the pilot glanced at the cookie in his hand. There seemed to be nothing unusual about it . . . no discoloration anywhere. "Sugar cookies?" he asked.
"My favorite," Delia answered, her eyes following his hand as he raised his tea cup to his lips once more.
He placed it on the table where the tray was and nibbled at the cookie he had taken from the tin.
No . . . it don' taste like it's been tampered with.
"So you come from oil country," Delia prodded.
Murdock washed down the cookie crumbs with another swallow of tea. "Not that it mattered. My Grampa wouldn' let 'em do any searchin' on his land. They wanted to but he drove 'em off with his shotgun." It wasn't totally the truth. Gramma wouldn't have allowed Grampa to do that but neither would either of them strike a deal with the men who came to ask for permission to look for the next Spindletop oil field under their land.
"Don' know how much that land's worth t'day but it don' matter. I kept it in th' fam'ly. I made sure t' keep th' taxes paid. My Gramma 'n' Grampa gave it t' me when they . . . " he took in a shaky breath, noticing how much their deaths still hurt him.
Delia clicked her tongue sympathetically. "You don't need to say any more. Land, money and other things seem pretty meaningless when you've lost people you love so much."
Murdock forced himself to remain calm. He knew she was fishing for the information Barger would want to know.
But th' mem'ries she's dredgin' up . . .
The store keeper stood abruptly, shaking her head as she did. "Where are my manners? Your tea must be getting cold." She picked up his cup and brought it to the counter where she filled it with more tea from a large pot. As he watched, she tore open a sugar packet and stirred the contents into his drink. "Just one packet, right?"
"Uh . . . yeah . . . thanks." He watched her as she brought the tea to him. She gave him the cup and went to the door of the shop.
Peering out at the street, she murmured, "Reverend Barger's people should be here any minute now."
He took another sip from his cup. Dipping the rest of the cookie into the tea, he let it soften, then popped it in his mouth.
He followed the cookie with a large gulp of tea. Within seconds he regretted it.
Somethin' tastes diff'rent.
He stared numbly at the cup in his hand, wondering how it got there.
The bell above the shop door jangled again and in his semi-stupor he heard the shop keeper speak. A male voice answered her.
Two blurry shapes approached. One gently removed the cup from his hand and knelt in front of him.
The kneeling figure patted his cheek. "Mister Somers? Merle? Are you feeling alright?"
He peered at the speaker's face and realized it was the shop keeper. Shaking his head, he fought back a wave of dizziness. "I . . . I don' . . . I don' feel good."
"My friends are here to take you to talk to Reverend Barger. But if you want, you can rest here for a while until you feel more like going with them."
The man standing behind her sounded like he agreed.
Confused, Murdock stared dumbly at Delia for a moment.
Wait . . . they ain' gonna force me? She's givin' me a chance t' say no? That don' make sense.
"No . . . I'm good. I'm fine." He tried to get to his feet but his legs were rubbery under him.
She slipped me somethin' . . . Jus' hope she didn' overdose me . . .
"Here. Let me help you out to the car, Mister Somers." The male figure loomed up in front of him and grasped his arm, holding him upright. "That is, if you're ready." For a few seconds, Murdock's imagination got the better of him and he thought B. A. was the one grabbing him. He was about to ask him why the burly mechanic was there when he remembered it couldn't possibly be his team mate.
Whatever she gave me it's doin' a number on me. A'most blew my cover. Gotta be careful.
Another wave of dizziness, this time accompanied by nausea, swept over him. He collapsed against the man holding him.
If the man's perceived bulk was any indication, Barger's goon was equal to the Sergeant in strength.
His near fall was partially staged to find out what kind of muscle Barger had working for him, but Murdock knew that the drug . . . whatever it was she gave me . . . was not yet having its full effect.
'N' then I might be more 'n fallin' down.
Another large blurry form appeared on his other side and propped him back up on his wobbly legs. The colors in the room shifted in front of his eyes as if he was in a giant kaleidoscope. He closed his eyes to escape the whirling colors.
"Mister Somers? Are you alright?" One of the two goons spoke but he sounded muffled and distant.
He couldn't respond. He couldn't push any sound past his vocal cords and his entire body felt like it belonged to someone else. He managed to groan.
At that moment, the scents of sage, lavender and sandalwood were accompanied by another sickly sweet overpowering smell.
He heard the shop owner hiss a final warning before he completely lost consciousness. "Why did you do that? Get him out to the car! We don't need any witnesses."
oooooo
B. A. parked the van in a secluded area of the motel parking lot. They had been listening to the device on their way to the motel even though the signal grew weaker as they got further away.
When they heard Murdock talk about his grandparents, Face sputtered out a protest. "He isn't going according to the script at all, Hannibal. Yeah, he got the name he's assuming right but he wasn't supposed to tell them about his inheritance and risk Barger getting his hands on it."
"When Barger calls to confirm Murdock's . . . Somers' . . . claim to the property, we'll intercept the call. Murdock's real name is on the deed to that land and there is no Merle Somers so there shouldn't be any risk at all." Hannibal opened his door to get out.
B. A. was in the process of disconnecting the listening device so they could continue to monitor it. He had a more powerful antenna ready in his shared room.
"I don't like it, Hannibal. Murdock doesn't sound right. I think this is affecting him more than you thought it would." Face got out of the van, anxious to get to the motel room and continue listening.
"How would you know? You ain't a mind reader, Faceman," B. A. growled. His tone wasn't as gruff as it usually was. He had doubts, too.
As Hannibal got out and shut his door, he nodded toward the device in B. A.'s hand. "Then we make sure we monitor that connection 24-7. At the first sign he's in over his head we'll move in."
Face breathed out a sigh of resigned frustration and followed the two men into their shared room.
B. A. hooked the device up and tilted the antenna in the direction of the store where Murdock was while Face paced back and forth and Hannibal took out a cigar.
"Hurry up, B. A." the Lieutenant muttered.
As soon as the device transmitted the first bit of static, he quickly took a seat close to the Sergeant and leaned in close.
"Get him out to the car. We don't need any witnesses."
A male voice none of them recognized spoke. "I parked the car in the back. The Reverend's waiting to meet this guy."
Another voice. "Are you sure you didn't give him too much of that stuff? He don't seem like he's breathing good."
"I gave him the same amount of pentobarbital I gave the others. You were the one that thought you needed to hit him with that chloroform." That was the shopkeeper.
Face glared up at Hannibal. "Pentobarbital? Chloroform? And you think he's not in over his head yet?"
The store owner spoke again. "Give him some oxygen on your way to the mountain. He'll come around."
B. A. grumbled under his breath. "Fool'd better come 'round."
The Lieutenant opened his mouth, ready to respond and then noted the tension in B. A.'s face. Instead, he nodded his agreement.
They made out the telltale sounds of Murdock being dragged somewhere. A few minutes later, a car door opened and shut. The sound of air hissing near the transmitter hidden in the frame of Murdock's glasses let them know he was receiving oxygen.
After a few more minutes they heard Murdock moan softly.
"You gave us quite a scare back there, Mister Somers. Just relax now. You're in good hands. We'll be there before you know it."
"Well, it sounds like he's safe for now." Hannibal appeared calm about the whole thing but Face noticed he hadn't lit his cigar yet.
"For now," the con man echoed. "Let's hope he stays that way."
The Spindletop oil discovery at the Spindletop salt dome near Beaumont, Texas, in 1901 is considered the beginning of the Texas oil boom. Although it stopped producing around 1936, Spindletop would have been a legendary discovery Murdock would have heard about.