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 6
B. A. glowered at the listening device. "I don't get all that stuff Barger was jibber-jabberin' 'bout, Hannibal. Isolate yourself from everythin' outside yourself? What kind of fool talk is that?"
The Colonel's expression was grim as he leaned back in the motel room chair. "I don't know, B. A."
"If Murdock's isolated from the rest of the compound, how's he going to collect information?" Face frowned. "I'd hate to guess what the Season of Preparation is all about."
"Barger has to make new recruits believe they don't need anything in life but what is right there at the compound. He has to get them to submit and willingly offer him everything they once possessed. They have to pledge their devotion to him. The question is how Barger does that." Hannibal stared thoughtfully at the device on the table in front of them.
Murdock wasn't saying anything now. He was obviously with one of Barger's men, maybe the one called Brother Luke, as he was being moved to another building or location.
"Do you think Murdock was telling Barger the truth? Has he been having nightmares again? Or is it part of his con?" Face leaned across the table, trying to hear any telltale sound of what was happening to his best friend.
"I don't know." Hannibal waved off any further conversation as Murdock's voice crackled over the listening device. "Listen."
oooooo
Murdock dutifully followed Brother Luke across the compound. As he passed, he once again made eye contact with the dark-haired potato-peeling teen.
Even after they continued on, the pilot could sense the youth's intent gaze on him.
They walked between two buildings and approached a very small hut about the size of the guard shack by the front gate. His guide stopped and opened the door, revealing a dark interior that held a wooden chair, its back against the opposite wall. The space inside the hut couldn't have been more than three feet wide by four feet deep. There was room enough to stand and to sit but not to move around. From his robe pocket, Luke produced a padlock.
Murdock felt his heart begin to race inside him. He had a feeling he knew where this was leading.
"Y . . . ya gotta be k. . . kiddin' me," the pilot stammered. "Ya ain' thinkin' o' lockin' me in . . . "
"A stay in the Vision Hut is necessary for your preparation. As the Book says, 'Those who walk in darkness shall see a great light.' You must experience almost total darkness to rid yourself of the negative and come to the light." Brother Luke's tone was gentle and conciliatory even as he encouraged his charge to sit on the chair.
"B . . . but what if I'm claustrophobic? There's barely 'nough room t' breathe in here."
The hooded man smiled and patted Murdock's knee to reassure him. "I'll be checking on you every hour to ensure you're safe."
The pilot swallowed hard. Their client had not mentioned this as part of his ordeal. Realizing how few details Schreiker had told them, he gripped the edges of the chair so tightly his knuckles hurt.
His guide continued to give him instructions but all Murdock could see was an undefined period of isolation in a very dark uncomfortable place.
"You won't need to wear glasses during the Season of Preparation," the guide said suddenly, holding out his hand.
For a second Murdock stared at the hand numbly, unsure how to prevent the confiscation of his means of talking to his team mates. He wasn't worried about Barger or his men finding the tiny transmitter in the frames. B. A. was skilled at hiding things like that. It wasn't that at all.
If I give 'em up, I'll be completely isolated.
"But . . . I'm a'most blind without 'em." Murdock shrank back against the chair as he protested.
"Really, Merle. Trust me. You won't need them for now. I'll put them in the envelope with your other personal effects and keep them in the lockbox until you're done." Luke's eyes narrowed a little.
'R maybe that's my 'magination.
Just to avoid suspicion, Murdock carefully removed the glasses and put them in his guide's hand.
"That's better." Brother Luke wrapped them in a handkerchief and placed them in a deep front pocket of his robe.
Murdock felt all of his muscles tense, sure that the robed man would close the door on him any time.
"You must try to relax completely, Merle. Don't think, don't use your senses, just try to make your mind a blank slate. A blank slate can be rewritten with positive thoughts; one cluttered with worries and ideas cannot." Brother Luke's voice became almost hypnotic as he slowly shut the door.
The outside sunlight gradually shrank to a sliver. By the time his guide shut and locked the door, Murdock was already craving blue sky and fresh air.
"I'll be back in an hour to see how you're doing. Visualize yourself as a vessel being slowly emptied of its contents. Freedom from the past begins when you are a blank slate."
The pilot heard the sound of the padlock being secured, then the crunch of sand and gravel underfoot. The sounds faded and became too distant to hear.
There was no sound now except for the pounding of his heart in his ears. He had no way of telling if the Vision Hut was bugged.
It might be if they wanna make sure new recruits're who they say they are.
He wondered if being emptied of his contents meant he would not get any food or water during his confinement. It wasn't like he hadn't experienced that sort of thing before in the POW camp.
"Well," he whispered, "Brother Luke didn' say I couldn' talk t' you, Billy." In the secrecy of the hut, they wouldn't know if he was addressing an invisible friend or an imaginary dog. Even though Murdock knew that Billy was really his brother, dead for many years, no one else did. He intended to keep it that way.
If they questioned him, he would pat the air beside him just as he always did and warn them that Billy turned an ugly shade of purple when folks made him angry.
'N' B. A. ain' gonna get mad at me either for talkin' t' Billy now that th' guys can' hear me.
That thought drove the reality of total isolation even harder into his heart. He would give anything to hear B. A. growl, "There ain't no dog, fool."
He had been in tight spaces before. Crawling around the interior of a Boeing to get the drop on would-be hijackers, for example. It wasn't fun but he wasn't claustrophobic either. Except when it came to elevators. He drew the line with elevators. They talked back to you sometimes.
But this hut's small, dark 'n' so quiet I can prob'ly hear grass grow outside if I listened real hard.
The partial sensory deprivation would get to him if he didn't remember his training.
Murdock murmured, "So whaddya wanna talk 'bout, Billy?" Unconsciously his hand stroked the air beside his left knee as he waited in silence and darkness for Brother Luke to return.
ooooo
Hannibal tried to keep a calm exterior even as he listened to the exchange between Murdock and his guide. From what he could hear, the Keeper was going to lock Murdock alone in a totally dark hut.
His mind involuntarily returned to a mission involving a sweatshop owned by a man called Presley and an illegal immigrant smuggling ring which supplied the labor. They had captured him when he posed as a client and shoved him in a hut that was little more than a tin box.
Hannibal remembered the sun beat on the metal roof and made the temperature inside hot enough to cook a man alive. If the team hadn't found the smuggler's compound and him in time . . . he hoped the Keepers' isolation hut was in the shade.
All three men heard the sound of someone handling Murdock's glasses. The voices that belonged to Murdock and his guide grew muffled as though the transmitter was covered with something.
"Well, there you go." Face ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "We just lost our only means of communication with him." The con man stood and turned on his CO. "We have to go in . . . now."
Hannibal gritted his teeth. Of course, Face would be anxious. Murdock and he were as close as if they had been born identical twins. At least it seemed that way sometimes.
"I think that would be premature, Lieutenant. It sounds like Murdock is just being confined for a while until he can convince them he's ready for the next step to becoming a member of their group. As soon as they release him, he'll find a way to report in." Hannibal didn't know if he was trying to convince Face and B. A. or himself.
"So we wait." The three words were said with bitterness and resignation, the same emotion the con man's face registered.
B. A. pushed himself to his feet and headed toward the door.
Hannibal followed him with his eyes. "He knows what he's doing," he insisted. "We go in when Murdock lets us know he's ready. Not until then."
"I heard ya," the big man muttered. "But I ain't gonna bust down no gate with my van. Gonna find a salvage yard an' get somethin' I can use that I don' need ta fix after we're done." B. A. glanced at Face and motioned with his head at the door. "You got the money, Faceman. Salvage yard ain't gonna let me have what I need for free."
Face hesitated for only a second. "Right on your heels, B. A." He turned to give Hannibal a curt nod. "With your permission, sir." He added the last word with sarcasm.
"I'll monitor things here. Call if you run into trouble." The Colonel's focus was on the listening device but he looked up after the door closed.
Softly, he added, "Be careful."
oooooo
As B. A. turned out onto the road, Face settled back in the front seat of the van. "So how much do you think you'll need to spend?"
The Sergeant flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. He drove in silence for a couple of minutes, heading out of Palmdale.
The con man stared at him in growing disbelief. "You weren't really going to a salvage yard. Were you?"
"We'll get there . . . later." B. A. stared morosely ahead.
"So what are we doing?" Face smirked a little. He had a pretty good idea of what the Sergeant was thinking.
"Just wanted ta take 'nother look at that mountain." B. A. quieted any remarks with a threatening glare.
"Think we'll be able to pick out where Murdock's being kept?" Face dug out the binoculars from their case.
"Don't know. But I want ta know where ta go ta find 'im when we bust in there. Fool might need help."
The con man knew better than to comment on the Sergeant's statement. He wouldn't mind knowing where Murdock was either so in case B. A. couldn't get to him . . .
"But we are still going to the salvage yard, right?" Face squinted at the horizon, trying to make out which mountain Hannibal and he would have to climb to get to the compound.
"O' course we are! Want somethin' armored an' heavy ta bust down that gate."
The con man fell silent.
He knew Murdock was resilient. He held out against their NVA captors as well as the next guy, maybe a little better. Then he remembered the last day they were in the POW camp.
Murdock had been separated from them for hours before Ferret and the other NVA guards were prepared to herd them along the trail to the next camp. Thrown in a confinement pit big enough only to stand up in, snakes and other camp vermin at his feet, taunted by the guards, Murdock emerged deathly silent and unaware of anyone and anything around him. Face thought he had finally snapped.
He did have his breaking point. All of us do.
Face hoped Murdock didn't reach his before they could enact Hannibal's plan.