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 32
Face waited as the men from both sides of the alley slowly advanced. He was certain these thugs didn't come to this party unarmed. Worse, he himself didn't bring a gun with him into Serensetti's and realized now what a mistake that was.
But an innocent bystander might have gotten hurt if I had.
Even now, if he gave these men reason to shoot, someone might poke their head out of the back door to see what the noise was and get injured or killed. So he waited, hands up in surrender, hoping B. A. saw the men head into the alley and realized what was going on.
He won't abandon me. I know he won't.
One of the men from inside the restaurant, the one who had looked like he was waiting for a table, got to him first. Shoved up against the building, face-first, the con man's first thought was of his Lorenzini custom-fit dress shirt and Brioni suit jacket making close contact with the filth of the brick wall.
I should never have worn the most expensive clothes in my wardrobe to meet with Schreiker.
His second thought was that these guys weren't military. The man behind him searched him with one hand, his arm squeezing the con man against the wall with deadly efficiency.
At least, not all of them.
His third thought was of the envelope Schreiker had given him for their services. Cursing silently, he realized he had not looked inside to see if the money was all there.
Yeah, wouldn't that be something if I'm being rolled for an envelope full of newspaper clippings?
One of the other thugs appeared and growled into the Lieutenant's face, "No weapon, huh? Not a smart move, pal."
Flinching away from the man's stale cigarette and coffee breath, Face let out a small chuckle. "Must have accidentally left it at the dry cleaners with my other suit."
"Funny guy. What's your connection with that weasel Schreiker?" The thug grabbed a handful of Face's hair in the back and drew his head back before shoving the con man's left cheek into the grimy bricks. Face felt the rough surface tear the skin and pressed his lips firmly together.
Guess I won't be scamming any fancy hotel rooms for us for a while. Not after these guys get through with me.
"He hired me to find something for him. That's all." Face thought he was beginning to understand the urgency behind Schreiker's job offer. Schreiker wasn't working with these guys and they weren't working for him. So what was their connection to the team's client? Until he knew more about these men, he wasn't willing to say anything about the rest of his team.
Maybe these guys will believe I worked solo on this.
Unable to turn his head, Face heard rather than saw the two other men approach from the other end of the alley. The strongman holding him against the wall located the envelope and passed it to his companion who grinned and opened it. He pressed the con man closer to the wall, so close Face thought he could almost smell the fragrance of Serensetti's special pasta sauce through the bricks. Both men watched the third open the envelope and glance inside.
Moments later Face saw the man scowl. He nodded to his partner who grabbed the con man's arm and wrenched it to about the middle of Face's back.
"Where's the money, pal?" the interrogator snapped as he let the neatly cut newspaper flutter to the ground.
The con man sucked in a breath and managed to gasp, "He . . . screwed you, too . . . huh? And . . . he's probably . . . gone now and hitching . . . a ride out of L. A."
I knew it. How did I know this was going to happen?
"The boss ain't gonna like this," the thug holding Face snarled to his friend.
"Schreiker's a dead man." The words were said with such a calm assurance, Face almost . . . almost . . . felt sorry for Schreiker. These guys would be efficient at what they did when they caught up to him.
Which means he won't ever be paying us for this job.
"Go see if Schreiker's still inside," the guy with the stale breath barked at someone Face couldn't see. "And you go get the car and start looking for him. He'll be on foot. He can't drive a car with slashed tires."
All Face heard of the two unseen accomplices was retreating hurried footsteps. He knew he should be relieved that he now had only two thugs to contend with but the steady pressure on his arm and back told him it wouldn't be easy to get away.
"And now . . . what should we do with you?"
Good question.
"You could let me go. I know nothing. I won't say anything." The con man tried to keep his voice level and calm.
"He's got a point." The thug gripping his arm didn't release him but seemed to wait for instructions.
Obviously he's the muscle and not the brains. A follower, not a leader.
The restaurant back door banged open, drawing the attention of all three men. Felicity's irate male friend poked his head out. Seeing Face, ignoring the others, he stormed into the alley, his fists two balls of white-knuckled fury. "You made me hit her. She don't want anything ta do with me now. You're gonna pay for that."
He was closely followed by Serensetti himself. Keeping his distance, the restaurant owner babbled apologies even as the jilted bodybuilder stalked over to the con man and the men holding him. "I tried to keep him from following. Do you need help?"
The con man grimaced as the man holding him jerked his arm higher up his back. He debated what he should say.
Well, it wouldn't hurt. But somehow I don't think Muscles there is gonna protect me from these slimeballs. He's more likely to help them.
"Signor Peck!" Serensetti paled when he finally noted what appeared to be a mugging. "I'll call the police!" He backed through the door as Felicity's angry date growled, "He ain't gonna need the police after I'm done with him. He'll need a ambulance!"
The other man gasped at that statement and retreated. With Serensetti safely back inside the restaurant and on the phone, Face decided to allow the situation to play itself out. Having the police show up to arrest all four of them was not a good idea.
But what am I going to do?
The thug in charge of the mugging glared at the furious bodybuilder. "Better back off, buddy. We got some business . . . "
He didn't get a chance to finish his statement as a huge fist crashed into his jaw and sent him staggering across the alley. He fell and didn't move.
Face's eyes widened.
One down . . .
He felt his arm drop back down to his side as Felicity's date yanked the other thug away and grappled with him. The two seemed evenly matched as they traded punches, ignoring their common enemy for the moment.
And Face took that moment to run toward the last known location of B. A., the van and freedom. He heard two angry shouts behind him and the sound of running but he had a very good head start. And a very good reason to run the fastest he had ever run in his life.
Jerking open the van door and scrambling in, he gasped out two words. "Go, B. A.!"
As the black man sped from the parking lot, Face glanced in the passenger's side window. Two bloodied irate men stood watching them, their hands balled into fists.
"What took ya so long, Faceman? An' where's th' money?" B. A. shot him a scowling look.
"Don't ask. Just drive," the con man panted, closing his eyes and sagging against the seat.