Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.
- Murdock, "Knights of the Road"
I think that last leap in time has added more holes to that swiss cheese memory of yours.
- Al, "Good Morning, Peoria"
Chapter 4: Observations
MONDAY, MAY 12, 1986
VAN NUYS
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
6:15PM PACIFIC TIME
Sam wasn't quite sure just how much time had passed since they had dropped Murdock off at the VA, let alone the distance they had covered in their current drive. His focus was maintained on the other two within the van, wondering exactly who they were or what kind of a situation he had Leaped into.
He felt the van slow, and then finally come to a halt along the side of a road behind some warehouses . . . or were they perhaps airplane hangers? This area didn't look like the most appealing spot in town, which made the hairs on the back of Sam's neck stand on end.
Hannibal turned around and said, "Don't forget about tomorrow, Face."
"Tomorrow?" Sam inquired, knowing that he did not possess the knowledge that his host did. He just hoped that asking about it wouldn't screw things up for him too much, especially after that . . . Murdock guy tried to say that he wasn't this . . . Face.
"Yeah . . . I've got a movie to do at the studio. My crew call is at 9am, so you'll need to pick me up at 7:30," he pointed out.
"Ah, okay," the physicist said, assuming that he, or rather this Face that he Leaped into, was supposed to be there during that time. At this point, Sam was almost convinced that maybe it was best that he say as little as possible, as that way he couldn't say anything that could risk raising the suspicion of the others.
An uncomfortable silence filled the air before the burly driver broke it by asking, "Why'd Murdock say you weren't Face?"
"I-I don't know. Maybe he's just seeing things again," Sam said as an excuse, hoping they would buy into it since Hannibal had mentioned about Murdock's invisible dog, Billy. The Nobel Prize winner knew the truth, and Murdock was seeing things . . . he was seeing right through the aura of the person he had Leaped into, where it seemed that the others could not. Plus he could also see Al . . .
"That fool's crazy. Hannibal, why do we keep havin' to bust him out of the VA?" the walking jewelry store wondered. It was very obvious from the tone of his voice that the driver wasn't too pleased to have Murdock hang around them on various missions.
"BA, you know the answer to that. Murdock is just as much a part of the Team as any of us. Without him, we would not have a pilot, we wouldn't have a donor for your special blood type, and you do have to admit that things would be a lot less interesting," Hannibal noted with a bit of a charming smile.
"Yeah, an' you had that crazy fool give me blood," BA said somewhat angrily.
"BA, it was only one time, and you could have died if Murdock didn't give you a transfusion. He's the only one we know who is an exact match for your AB negative blood without having to check you into a hospital where you'd be arrested at first sight," the white-haired male pointed out.
Sam was content on just listening to the conversation, as it offered more insights about those he was going to have to work with until Al told him what Ziggy computed that he had to do before he could Leap. Right now, his best friend with whom he had founded Project Quantum Leap was catching up on old times with a friend of his from the past who resided within the mental ward of a VA hospital.
Taking his cue from the lull in the conversation, Sam opened the sliding door to the van. Apparently, this was his stop . . . wherever this was. Hannibal had turned back around in his seat to look once more at the person whom he thought was a member of his elite squad. "Don't forget, Face."
"7:30 . . . I'll remember," Sam said, never feeling so eager to get out of the van. He hated to admit it, but the driver seemed to be very intimidating . . . even for him, despite his extensive knowledge of martial arts and self-defense techniques.
He watched as the vehicle pulled away and looked around him, wondering where he was. He couldn't recognize any of the buildings nearby, but he did notice that the plates on the van were from California. Although that narrowed down the possibilities of where he was, there were literally thousands of towns and cities within the state made famous by the gold rush.
A small Cessna took off from behind the fence line, which confirmed that he was near an airport, and those buildings he saw were actually hangars for the various companies that operated inside. It didn't look like there was much in the way of security, and smaller planes generally wouldn't fly out of a major international airport, which meant that this was the kind of airfield that appealed to aviation junkies and charter companies rather than commercial passengers.
But, that still didn't tell him exactly where he was, or what he was doing here . . .
Almost as if his prayer was answered, a familiar voice said, "How's it going, Sam?"
"How's it going? How else do you think it's going? You go off to talk to someone you haven't seen since Vietnam, and leave me hanging without even giving me some basic information on who I Leaped into," the brilliant scientist blasted out of frustration.
"Sorry, Sam, but since Howie could see me, I had to tell him what was going on so he wouldn't blow things for you. Besides, it was kind of hard to resist. I haven't seen or talked to Howie in almost 30 years. He and I met up in Vietnam and became best friends in a very short amount of time. The most I've been able to keep up with him was the occasional bulletin that came across my desk . . ." Al started to say.
"Bulletin?" the physicist wondered, his anger almost totally gone from his tone.
"Murdock is part of a Special Forces group called the A-Team. There's four members . . . H. M. Murdock, Bosco Baracus, John Smith, and the guy you Leaped into, Templeton Peck. These guys were legendary in 'Nam . . . the best," Al began to explain with a tremendous air of sincere fondness and admiration in his tone as he walked over toward the curb so Sam wouldn't be standing in the middle of traffic.
Sam was still very confused as he followed his friend over to the curb. Somehow, he had a feeling that there was a lot more to this that his partner wasn't telling him yet. "Yeah, but that was Vietnam, Al. What are they still doing together? And why were they being chased when I first Leaped in?"
Al let out a bit of a nervous chuckle, the kind that he normally would give when he wasn't quite sure how to share all of the necessary information. "That's, um, a bit of a long story, Sam," he pointed out, still trying to figure out how to best put this for his friend.
"Al!" Sam blasted, trying to get the details that the Observer wasn't telling him.
"Okay, okay," the Admiral conceded, removing his cap for a moment and running a hand through his hair before putting the military hat back on his head. "The reason why they're still together, and being chased is . . . is because they're wanted."
"Wanted?" Sam parroted, even though some of what had been said by the others already had suggested that very fact. The thought of Leaping into someone who was wanted by authorities, especially after what had happened the last few times, left the quantum physicist feeling absolutely disgusted and aghast at the prospect. "So I've Leaped into a criminal"
"Depends on who you ask, Sam," Al quickly pointed out, waving a hand around a bit. "Ask the military and the government, yeah, they'll say that these guys are criminals. But, ask anyone else, especially someone that they helped out, and they're likely to sing you a different tune. Ask any one of the A-Team, and it'll be a different story all together."
Sam looked at Al curiously, still trying to seek information and answers. He was starting to get frustrated with just how cryptic that the Observer was being. "What do you mean?"
Al paused for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. Drawing in a breath, he started to explain, "According to what the guys have said, they were ordered by a Colonel Morrison to rob the bank of Hanoi. Supposedly, it was an assignment that could have brought North Vietnam to their knees. Murdock had dropped them off and was ordered to return to the HQ. While they were on that mission, the base was bombed. Rumor had it that Morrison was supposedly found dead before the shelling, eliminating the A-Team's only alibi, but the guy's body was never positively identified."
Hearing that last part immediately caused Sam to interrupt, as ideas started flowing through is mind. "Never positively identified? Al, what if this . . . Morrison guy is still alive? He could clear them, right?"
Al shook his head, waiving a hand around expressively again as he talked, "'Fraid not, Sam. When a base like that takes a shelling, sometimes things can get confusing in a war. If men turn up missing, and they find remains so charred that even the dog tags are melted and unreadable, they start putting two and two together. Things can be pretty confusing during a war. I should know."
"But they were acting under orders," Sam continued to push, not realizing the full story that Al was trying to tell him. Was he here to help find this Colonel Morrison? To help clear their names? There was so many possibilities, and he had no idea yet what Ziggy was going to project.
Al, at this point, really needed a cigar. It was the second time that he needed one already while in the Imaging Chamber. Unfortunately, with meeting Senator McBride, he didn't have the foresight to grab one and put it in his uniform pocket. If he had, he'd be puffing away on it now as he tried to relate things to his friend. Instead, his attention was captivated by a single-engine Cessna that was circling the airfield and on approach to a landing. "Sam, you realize that's a Cessna Skyhawk? There's more Cessna 172s built than any other aircraft in the world. Those things are a pure joy to fly," Al mused thoughtfully.
"Al," Sam said, frustration growing within the tone of his voice before repeating his original point, which he still couldn't quite understand. "How could the A-Team be wanted? You just said they were acting under orders."
"The mission was supposed to be classified," Al pointed out. "They couldn't take a copy of the orders with them because they couldn't have a paper trail, just in case they got caught. But, because they didn't take a copy of the orders with them, it became their word against a dead man, which was impossible to prove. When the war had ended, the US government was all too happy to make the guys a scapegoat, throwing them into a maximum security stockade for the robbery and treason and putting them on trial. Since Murdock wasn't with them when they were sent up the river, that's probably what made him snap and develop . . ."
Realizing that Al was stumbling over the term that he had used earlier when they had dropped off Murdock at the VA hospital, Sam chimed in, "Bi-polar disorder."
"They went over the wall, escaped from a high security stockade at Fort Bragg in North Carolina, before they could be convicted. Since then, they've been working underground as soldiers of fortune . . . mercenaries. They'll take just about any job that they can to help out those in need. You were so wrapped up in Project StarBright and planning Project Quantum Leap that you probably wouldn't have heard about what happened to them," the holographic Observer concluded.
"What more can you tell me about them . . . this A-Team?" Sam wondered, something still gnawing at him in the back of his mind, although he still hadn't figured out what it was yet.
Al let a bit of a smile cross his lips as he fondly related, "These guys are definitely a piece of work. Living on the edge like they did, they developed a strong bond, like a family, almost to the point where they know what the other is thinking. There wasn't anything that they couldn't do, which is probably why they kept getting all of the missions that was labeled as suicidal or impossible for any other unit. You wouldn't believe some of the stuff they can manage to pull off when their backs are against a wall."
Sam listened as he watched Al share the information . . . and then it finally struck him! "How do you know so much about these guys? I haven't seen you use the Handlink more than a couple of times so far on this Leap," he wondered. He certainly didn't need a repeat of what happened when he Leapt into horror novelist Joshua Ray.
"Two reasons. First, I had ran into them on a couple occasions while I was in Vietnam, and we were all held at the same POW camp. Second, the bulletins that I just mentioned are sent to anybody who holds a high rank in every branch of the armed forces and has detailed information on people who are sought because they went over the wall and escaped from a maximum security stockade," Al noted.
Sam was almost incredulous upon hearing this from Al. "You knew them in Vietnam?"
Al almost rolled his eyes at that question. "Of course I knew them in 'Nam. It's not a very big country, and a lot of us in the military used to hang out at the same places. The VC also used to stick us all in the same camps too."
"What can you tell me about the guy I Leaped into, as well as these other guys?" Sam questioned, hoping to get the information he'd need to hopefully help himself get through the next few days.
"You Leaped into Lieutenant Templeton Peck, born December 7, 1950, better known as Face or the Faceman," the former POW started.
"I remember Murdock calling me that . . . but why?" Sam wondered, still trying to get something more to go on, especially if he was going to have to make others believe that he really was this Templeton Peck, or Face character as they called him.
"Sam, haven't you taken a look in a mirror yet?" Al scoffed, thinking his time traveling partner had already done that. It was usually one of the first things Sam did, when he had a chance, if Al wasn't there right away with the information he'd need to help him with a Leap.
"I haven't had a chance to, Al . . . at least not without appearing conspicuous after Murdock telling the others that I wasn't this Faceman," Sam countered.
"When you do, you'll know why he was given that nickname. The guy is so incredibly handsome that he probably could have dominated the cover of GQ. He's second in command of the team, a wizard at math, a con man, used to be an orphan as a kid, and has legally changed his name 5 times," the former POW started.
"5 times?" the physicist questioned, totally in shock.
"He still uses those former names from time to time, especially when trying to buy something involving a credit or background check. That's how he managed to get his current luxury penthouse near the marina. He's the supply officer and usually ends up conning items out of other people so the Team can get out of a jam. He's got a little black book that I would love to take a look at with the names and phone numbers of all the women he's ever associated with . . ." Al trailed off thoughtfully, more distracted with that thought than watching the Cessna Skyhawk land beyond the airport fence.
"Al!" Sam said, trying to bring his friend back to reality. The last thing he needed to hear right now was one of Al's sex-related stories.
"Oh, sorry Sam. See that white Corvette over here . . . the one with the red stripe?" the Observer asked, seeing his friend nod an affirmative response. "That belongs to you . . . I mean, to Face."
"What can you tell me about the other guys that I was with?" the Nobel Prize winner asked, slowly walking over to the vehicle.
"The guy you dropped off at the VA is Captain Howard Madej Murdock, nicknamed Howling Mad, which was also his pilot call sign. He was born July 27, 1947. His mom died when he was five, and nobody really knows what happened to his dad. This guy is a wiz when it comes to anything that has wings or a rotor . . . he's flown all sorts of planes, jets, and choppers, even the experimental ones. He was with the Thunderbirds before Vietnam, and likely would have been an astronaut if things didn't happen the way they did. After he snapped, he was institutionalized at the VA in Westwood, California. His doctor there is an Alan Richter. Here's the kicker . . . not everyone thinks that Murdock is insane," Al started to say.
"What about the guy with all the jewelry hanging from around his neck?" Sam wondered.
"That's Sergeant Bosco Andre Baracus, better known as BA. He was born November 3, 1951 and lived with his mom in Chicago. He earned the nickname Bad Attitude because he likes to slug officers."
"Slug officers?" Sam gulped, realizing that his host was of a higher rank.
"Don't worry. BA probably wouldn't hit you because he knows that if he messes up Face's face, he won't be able to use his good looks to scam anything for a while, messing up their meal ticket. The guy is an expert mechanic and is the ordinance officer for the Team. The only thing is he is deathly afraid of heights and refuses to fly, especially if Murdock is going to be the pilot," the Navy pilot explained.
"And what about the last guy . . . the one with the cigar?" Sam quizzed.
"Colonel John Smith, born May 2, 1936. He's a soldier, born and bred . . . highly decorated too. Before Vietnam, he studied medicine for a while and then went to and graduated from West Point, andalso served in Korea. He earned his nickname of Hannibal because he can always come up with a plan, and they almost always seem to work no matter how reckless or crazy they seem to be. He has a very unorthodox style and likes pincer movements, along with going through the front door tactics. The guy has lived in the face of death too many times to allow it to keep him down, so he's probably got the brightest attitude I've seen in a human being. He was the one who first got me to start smoking cigars, Sam. Oh . . . when the Team isn't on a mission he makes a living as an actor, plus he's a master of disguise," Al told his friend.
The Nobel Prize winner reached the car, but did not immediately get in. Already, he felt that he had a handle on the problem that he had to fix. "Al, what does Ziggy say that I'm here to do? It's to help clear their names . . . or Murdock get past his bi-polar disorder, right?"
"No, I'm afraid not, Sam," the former POW said, his voice taking a very dark and solemn tone. That was usually the indication for the time traveler that the problem was something far more serious. "Hannibal gets killed in an assignment the Team takes . . . five days from now. According to Ziggy, that deals a major blow to the rest of the Team. Face tries to keep the Team together and taking on missions, but ends up getting killed by a foreign dictator, sacrificing his life to save the rest of the guys. Murdock winds up being institutionalized until he just disappears from the records. BA is shot in the back and is paralyzed when he tries to stop a gang war in Chicago."
Sam shook his head almost in disbelief, especially with how Al had described not only each member, but also how the team functioned as a whole. "I can't believe that a military unit like what you say this A-Team is would have gone that sour just because of the death of one of it's members."
"It wasn't just the death of one of its members, Sam. It was the death of the leader of the unit, the person who held the Team together. When a leader dies, the others lose their inspiration . . . their direction. Remember how hopeless everything seemed to be when President Kennedy was assassinated?" Al pointed out.
"No, not really. I was only 10 at the time, Al, so it was a bit confusing," Sam noted.
"I was in the Navy, and I'll never forget it. You have to remember that the President of the United States also serves as Commander in Chief of the Armed Forces. Yeah, we have Admirals and Generals and stuff like that, but the Pres is always the big boss. When that rat Oswald shot Kennedy, it seemed like it was the end of the world," the Apollo astronaut revealed.
"Al, based on what you've told me about how these guys operate, what's to say that if I save Hannibal's life this time that he won't be killed after I Leap out?" the time traveler wondered, praying that Ziggy wasn't wrong on this one. Ziggy had made brilliant projections in the past, but not all of them were accurate . . . much less simple.
The Observer punched a few buttons on the Handlink, which emitted a few chirps in response. Looking at the readout, he replied, "Ziggy says that, if you save him, there's a 98% chance that he won't be killed after that until he dies of natural causes."
"Does Ziggy have any details on how Hannibal is killed?" Sam inquired.
"No, there were never any details on how it happened, or even what the Team was involved in at the time. They never kept a paper trail, just in case they were captured. They didn't want any more charges added on to what they would have to face during a trial. According to the coroner's report, it was a gunshot wound to the neck. It severed the trachea, causing suffocation by his own blood . . ." Al admitted grimly, trailing off at the end.
The quantum physicist had an idea just how hard this was for his friend . . . almost as hard as when he had learned that his first wife, Beth, had declared him dead and remarried, only to disappear forever. "Al, go see what Ziggy can come up with. We have to find a way to keep Hannibal from getting killed,"
"I'm on it," the Rear Admiral replied, punching a button on the Handlink, opening a doorway of light. He stepped through, and Sam watched it close into nothingness.
The Nobel Prize winner got into the Corvette and started up the engine, which roared to life like a finely tuned machine. Resigned to his fate for the moment, he slipped the car into gear and pulled away . . .
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 26, 1999
PROJECT QUANTUM LEAP
STALLIONS GATE, NEW MEXICO
11:30AM MOUNTAIN TIME
Al emerged from the Imaging Chamber, seeing Senator Diane McBride standing at the base of the ramp. He had completely forgotten about her in his worries for Sam, as well as catching up on old times with Murdock. "Sorry that took so long, Diane. I, uh, got a little hung up back there," he apologized as he walked up to her.
"That was amazing, Al. I'm curious though . . . you found Sam, but yet you waited with telling him information to talk to someone who you knew from Vietnam," Diane wondered, hoping to gain some insight as to his reasoning and line of thought.
"I've got two reasons for that. First, Ziggy had said that the other guys were coming. If they had seen their team mate talking to thin air, they would have had him committed to the psych ward of that VA faster than Murdock," Al started to say, pressing a few buttons on the Handlink to put it into a standby mode.
"And the second?" she asked, hoping to get the truth out of him.
"Second, for some reason, Howie was able to see and hear me even though I'm supposed to be tuned in just to Sam's brainwaves . . . and he was able to see Sam for himself. He had even told the rest of the Team that Sam wasn't Face. If I didn't tell Howie the truth, he could have ruined any chances that Sam has to accomplish his mission so he can Leap out," the Navy Rear Admiral explained, walking over to the console in the middle of the room with Diane following him. He put the Handlink on the charging pad, and then turned his full attention to his guest.
"How could he have ruined the chances for Sam to accomplish his mission and be able to Leap?" Diane wondered.
"Considering the nature of what they do, if they became suspicious of Sam and didn't believe that he was the person that he Leaped into, they'd restrict his movements. If Sam couldn't freely act or do what he needed to, then he likely wouldn't be able to save Hannibal's life and correct history," Al detailed as they started to walk back towards the elevator.
"It can have that great of an impact?" she inquired as she walked next to him.
"It sure can. One of Sam's first Leaps was into a black man in the south at the height of segregation. Jesse Tyler was his name," Al began to relate, hoping that actually it would have been a perfect example of what he meant by that. "Sam tried to encourage integration, but the local townsfolk wouldn't have it. When Jesse's granddaughter was seriously injured in an accident, the closest hospital was one for whites only. Although Ms. Melanie helped her to get the treatment she needed so the granddaughter wouldn't die, Sam got arrested and wasn't able to be there to fulfill his mission and save Ms. Melanie from being squished by a choo-choo."
"If he was in jail and couldn't save her, how was he able to Leap?" the Senator wondered.
"Well, that's the funny thing about it. Somehow, she was able to hear me and pulled off into a cemetery just in time, although she didn't like my swearing," Al chuckled. "It seems that those that are close to death can see Sam for himself, and sometimes see and or even hear me as well."
"Amazing," Diane expressed. "I never would have imagined something like that could be possible. Then again, I don't think most people thought that time travel could become a reality."
Al nodded a bit and then smiled. "Well, Diane, if you're ready we can continue the tour."
"Of course, Al. I'd love to see what else you have at this complex," she smiled cordially, eager to see everything that she possibly could that was built into the multi-billion dollar facility.
MONDAY, MAY 12, 1986
HARBOR CITY
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
6:50PM PACIFIC TIME
Something bothered the leader of the A-Team . . . things weren't quite right and it left him feeling unsettled. Hannibal usually enjoyed being in the van with BA, and driving through the streets of Los Angeles and just looking at the various sites of the expansive city after a successful mission like the one they just completed, but this drive didn't help him to relax like they normally did. He never enjoyed that sensation, of feeling unsettled, as it usually did not bode well for his unit. "Pull over, BA."
The menacing mechanic glanced at his commander for a moment, and then did as he was ordered, easing the gray and black van to a spot along a curb in front of a few businesses. Turning back to the Colonel, he questioned, "What's wrong, man?"
"Did you notice anything unusual with how Face was acting since we got in the van with Decker on our heels?" Hannibal wondered. He hated to bring this subject up . . . he generally had complete faith in his second in command, but he couldn't get over how distant Templeton Peck had been.
"Yeah, now you mention it. He was too quiet . . . Faceman's never been that quiet 'less he's got something botherin' him," BA noted.
"He did come awfully close to biting the big one back there. That'd be enough to phase anybody for a while, whether we've faced death before or not," Hannibal countered, before continuing with his original train of thought that left him so concerned. "But it's more than that, BA. Did you notice how he side-stepped our questions? How he didn't remember my crew call tomorrow morning, or even breaking Murdock back into the VA?"
"That's right . . . he called you by your nickname, but didn't call me an' Murdock by our names or ranks. You think Faceman might not be right in the head?" BA asked, growing concerned for his fellow Team member just as Hannibal was. In spite of his menacing appearance and gruff demeanor, BA was a softie at heart . . . even if he didn't want everyone to know it most of the time.
"It's hard to say, BA. He was fine and talkative when he first got into the van. What makes it even more strange is what Murdock had said . . . that someone else was in Face's clothes, not our Lieutenant. Even the look in his eyes was different, especially when he was coming out of the VA after dropping off Murdock. I think something happened to him while he was in the van . . ." Hannibal deduced.
"He didn't look like he got a concussion, did he?" BA wondered, trying to point out another possibility.
"I don't know, BA. That road we were on while escaping Decker was kind of rough and we were bouncing around pretty good, but not enough to make him hit his head in the van," the A-Team's commanding officer countered. He had some medical training in the past, and would easily recognize the signs of a concussion if one of his officers had it.
"Got a plan, Hannibal?" the Sergeant questioned.
"Yeah . . . let's try to tail him, see where he goes and what he does. If he isn't thinking straight, he's bound to get into trouble, and I don't want to be too far away in case he needs backup. If necessary, I'll confront him tomorrow and see what he says," the strategist suggested.
He really hated the idea of following Face like he didn't trust him, but he wasn't acting like himself. Although Murdock acted crazy, the pilot was brilliant in his own right, knowing when it was okay to goof around and when things needed to be taken seriously . . . he would not have made the accusation he did lightly. Plus there was this nagging feeling that left him unsettled. Having learned to trust his instincts, especially in the line of fire, it was a warning that more was going on than they possibly knew. Hannibal pulled out a cigar and rolled it between his fingers, justifying the plan to himself by thinking that they were doing it just to make sure that Face was okay.
"What if he spots us, man? Face isn't gonna like us followin' him like this," BA pointed out, knowing how paranoid Templeton Peck could be at times, especially if there was any possibility that Hannibal could commandeer one of his scams. Although he was very much a member of the A-Team, Templeton Peck very much enjoyed having private time away from the guys where he could build upon the high-society appearance that he tried to project . . . an appearance that often had him seeing a whole host of women.
"We'll just have to make sure that he doesn't see us, BA," Hannibal mused before a wry grin crossed his face. "Of course, we could always use Murdock's white paper approach and make ourselves invisible."
BA rolled his eyes at that last comment, and groaned, "Awww, Hannibal." He always hated it when the Colonel started to seem just as crazy as Murdock was, but then again Hannibal had a higher tolerance for Murdock's antics than BA did.
Hannibal let out a bit of a light laugh at BA's reaction, and then lit up his cigar before taking a puff on it.
"Where do you suppose we start looking for Face?" BA wondered as he shifted the gear select back into drive and slowly pulled away from the curb.
Hannibal thought for a moment and then suggested, "Let's start by checking out that new penthouse of his and see if he's gone back there. Beyond that, we'll have to check out some of the places where he's running a scam, and then start doing a grid search, even if it takes all night." It was very clear from the tone of his voice that Hannibal was determined to protect his Lieutenant.
ECHO PARK
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
7:15PM PACIFIC TIME
Sam pulled the Corvette out of the flow of traffic and shifted into park in front of a gated apartment building complex with a stone archway that lead into a plaza with a fountain. Daylight was beginning to fade into the gentle darkness of night, literally setting the sky ablaze with vibrant shades of orange due to the smog. He realized he had no idea where he was going, and knew that he couldn't keep driving around forever. In his worries for what was going to happen to the Team, he had forgotten to ask his holographic partner where this Templeton Peck was currently living . . . let alone where John Hannibal Smith resided.
He had seen a car phone within the van, and there was a similar one next to him in the Vette, but he didn't know the phone number. If he did know the numbers and were to call, asking for the address or directions, that would only serve to lend credence to what Murdock had told the others.
Considering Al's sense of humor, he half expected the Observer to appear out of nowhere with a sign in his hand that boldly read "This way to Face's penthouse." Sam doubted that was going to happen, especially not when the Rear Admiral was trying to research things on his own end. As much as he dreaded doing so, the brilliant scientist had no other choice . . . he had to return to the VA and ask the institutionalized pilot.
He reached over and opened the glove compartment, relieved to find a map of Los Angeles inside. Spreading it out across the steering wheel, he scoured it until he found where he currently was on the map. There were several markings, which made Sam raise an eyebrow in curiosity, wondering what exactly they meant.
"Great," he muttered in regards to the markings that were written on the map, and obviously weren't printed on there. "I might as well be reading hieroglyphics."
Looking closer, he noted that there were three Veterans Administration hospitals within the greater Los Angeles area. The sign that was outside the entrance of the hospital they had taken Murdock to had read "Veterans Administration Psychiatric Hospital." He had remembered seeing a freeway close by. Glancing at the map again, he noted a Veterans Administration area along the 405 San Diego freeway, just off Wilshire, with the letter "M" scribbled over one of the buildings. It was as good as a place as any to start . . .
Folding up the map, the quantum physicist peered into the rear view mirror, getting a look at his host for the first time. Now he understood why everyone was calling him . . . calling Templeton Peck . . . Face. Al's description had been dead on. Staring back at him was the reflection of a male in his 30s with sandy blonde hair that bore golden highlights, blue eyes, and a very handsome, well-shaven face. Sam thought the countenance looking back at him was that of a male model or even a glamorous movie star.
Sam smiled, and watched his host's face as it also smiled. Now he understood why Al had told him that Templeton Peck was a con man. He not only had looks that could kill, but combined with a smile like that he could likely charm a widow out of her life savings with just a few words if he had to. That thought turned Sam's stomach, knowing how much of a mensch he was . . . or at least that's what Al had said his 3rd wife, Ruthie, would never have called the Observer . . . a good guy, in Hebrew.
The more that Sam looked at the reflection in the mirror, the more it reminded him of how his face looked like. It was very similar in many ways, although there were subtle differences in terms of the overall shape of the face, eyes, and even the haircut. Perhaps, in another lifetime, they could have been relatives with how close in appearance that Sam noted them to be.
But Al had mentioned, when he filled him in on the members of the Team, that Face had been an orphan. Could there be a chance that they were related? The more he wracked his swiss-cheesed memory, the more he discounted that thought. His entire family had been pretty close to all of their relatives, and even though they weren't wealthy, there was simply no way that any one of them would have given up a child for adoption, so that ruled out that thought.
Shifting the car into gear, Sam pulled away from the curb. Deep inside, he knew this probably wasn't a good idea, especially considering that he and the others had been chased by the military police and some man that Hannibal and the others referred to as Decker. Going to the VA increased the chance that he could get caught, but Sam had no other choice.
