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 22
Murdock could see only the gauntlet of enemies from his past on either side of him as he stumbled along toward their destination. Someone held him up . . .
. . . prob'ly th' only thin' keepin' me from fallin' flat on my face in the dirt . . .
"Where you b'long, boy!" his father jeered as he drifted along beside him. Murdock twisted his head to look at him.
His Pa hadn't changed. Still unshaven, leering at him with red-rimmed eyes as if he had just come from an all-nighter at a bar. He knew he couldn't form the words to say anything in response. It wouldn't have changed his Pa's feelings toward him.
He tripped and fell heavily against the person helping him.
"Stay with me, fool. We're just about there," his guide growled.
He recognized that voice and felt a glimmer of hope inside him. If B. A. couldn't get him through this gathering of demons, no one could. Gripping the waist of the person beside him, he regained some of his balance and staggered along.
Tommy Angel taunted him from a safe place a few feet away. "Why'd you let your friends go through so much in that camp? You knew things. You could have saved your friends a lot of pain if you had just told Ferret what he needed to know."
Murdock knew . . . knew . . . that Tommy Angel hadn't kept any confidential intel back from the enemy.
I had t' do what I did. But you . . . ya sold us all out . . .
Tommy gave him one last smirk as they passed. "Was it worth it? All that suffering?"
His Pa took up the taunt. "So ya let yer friends go through hell fer a buncha worthless secrets?" He shook his head in derision. "Why'd they even bother with ya after Nam?"
B'cause . . . b'cause . . .
Truth was, he didn't know right now why they didn't leave him to die alone in that jungle after they escaped.
More voices called out to him, all of them accusing . . . mocking . . .
So many others . . . some, he couldn't even remember their names . . .
Leave me 'lone!
A large mass loomed up in front of him and the person half-carrying him.
The door opened. Ferret, the NVA interrogator, greeted him.
Yer . . . yer dead . . .
Blood spurted from the slash across his throat that Murdock had inflicted with the guard's own knife.
The pilot took two faltering steps backward, seeing only the interrogator and the interrogation hut before him.
Strong arms prevented him from going farther and began to push him toward the door once more.
Turning quickly, he drove his right fist hard into his captor's chin. Pulling his arm back to land another blow, he felt someone grab it before he could strike again.
"Get in the truck, fool!"
T . . . truck?
He blinked several times but nothing erased the image of the door of the interrogation hut. He couldn't lift either arm to brace or defend himself and realized his captor held him so tightly escape was impossible.
"No! No!" Flailing against the person who drove him against his wishes toward the leering NVA guard, he screamed out the word several times.
But it was no use. Ferret's glittering hate-filled eyes and evil grin were all Murdock could see now.
oooooo
The fist to his chin only strengthened B. A.'s resolve to get Murdock into the truck. He knew the crazy man didn't know what he was doing.
"I don't know what's got inta ya but we ain't gonna leave ya here. Get . . . in . . . the . . . truck . . . fool!" The Sergeant gripped him tighter, pinning the pilot's arms to his sides and almost lifting him off his feet.
For a moment, Murdock's screams of "No!" brought B. A.'s memories of the POW camp back into his mind as if they had happened just last week. When the pilot was stuck in the past the only way to deal with it was to talk him through it or . . .
He's gotta get in that truck an' we gotta get outta here. Sorry, fool . . .
B. A. suddenly released his captive, swung him around to face him and punched him . . . hard.
The black man grimaced as Murdock's head snapped back and hit the side of the truck with a dull thud. He crumpled to the ground at B. A.'s feet.
Sighing heavily, the Sergeant bent at the knees, lifted the unconscious pilot across his shoulder and gently laid him in the rear of the heavy truck. Anxiously counting the seconds that were rushing by, he waited for Face and Hannibal to join them and silently apologized to his team mate.
oooooo
Face watched Brother Luke as he unlocked the door to the building where the financial records were kept.
"If property belonging to my fellow Keepers has been mishandled . . . " the Keeper started, a hint of frustrated anger in his voice.
"Not mishandled . . . stolen. Some of them I'm sure gave it up willingly and never questioned what was done with it." Face motioned with the gun for Luke to enter the building first. "But our client escaped from here and he wants his property back."
"Escaped?" A frown creased the other man's brow. "Why would anyone want to escape? Even if Reverend Barger is dead . . . "
" . . . was murdered more likely," Face interrupted.
Luke gasped and gave him an incredulous stare. "Murdered? But why?"
"The person who handled the finances . . . "
Absently, Luke supplied the name. "Brother Amos." He seemed to still be processing the information that Barger was dead.
"Yeah, well, your Brother Amos was using the proceeds from the sale of properties and other possessions for his own little retirement package. His two buddies probably made sure no one who suspected anything hung around for long. And they were well paid for their services." Face spied a set of filing cabinets and motioned for Luke to lead the way to them.
As they went, the Keeper protested. "You know, you don't have to threaten me with that gun. I'm not interested in trying anything to escape. And if you have a client who wants his property back, you should take it to him."
Face considered the man for a few seconds before lowering the weapon and tucking it in his shoulder holster.
"The loss of Reverend Barger is . . . I just don't know what to say. He mentored me when I was lost and trying drugs and everything else to find meaning to my life. Brother Amos . . . " He said the name with a lot more rancor than Face thought the man was capable of. ". . . won his confidence and slowly isolated Reverend Barger from the rest of the community. I should have known what was happening. I should have known." The last sentence was said with such a heavy tone of regret and sorrow that Face felt sorry for Luke.
"You could carry on. You still have the principles the man stood for," he offered.
Luke shook his head, a bittersweet smile on his face. "Only by agreement of everyone in the community. Those who don't want to continue . . . I don't know. Will there be enough of us left?"
The con man didn't know what to say to him. Eyeing the file cabinet, he reached for the drawer labeled 'S-T.' It didn't budge.
The Keeper frowned. "Locked., " he murmured, stating the obvious. His eyes widened when the con man removed a lock-pick set from his pants pocket and began to work on the drawer.
"Who are you people?"