A/N: Okay, I do apologize for the delay in this chapter. I posted the last one, looked down, and it was ten days later. I wrote this in increments overtime, but still found it a bit dry since it's, well, I won't say what or else I'll spoil it. But I didn't have a lot of motivation for this chapter, which is why it's shorter than the others. After this is the epilogue, which will hopefully be better, since I have plans for it (mwa-ha-ha) though it also won't be too long. Anyways, to put something out there, here's this. No, I don't feel it's my best chapter, but it gets done what needed to be done. Meh. Enjoy it, though!
In Hannibal's opinion, they were under no obligation to be gentle with their prisoner. Since he was waking up anyway, and since he had tried to shoot one of his men, Hannibal pulled him roughly into the hotel room and dumped him on a chair while Face hurriedly secured him to it. Henderson blinked and groaned, still dizzy from the drug he was shot with.
Hannibal stood in front of him, in full-blown Colonel-mode. B.A. and Murdock lingered on either side, arms crossed. When the rogue agent finally woke up fully, he faced three very unhappy faces.
"You're a hard man to track down," Hannibal began sternly.
"I wouldn't be any good at my job if I wasn't," he replied, leaning back and trying to take in his surroundings.
"Now, what I can't figure," Hannibal continued. "Is why a man would serve his country for over 20 years, and then turn on it with hardly a backwards glance."
"You've got it wrong, Colonel," Murdock interrupted. Everyone turned towards him. His hands tightened on his crossed arms as he spoke. "Henderson never betrayed his country- in fact, he's been working for it all along."
"What are you talking about?" Face asked.
The pilot stepped forward, eyes narrowed at the bound man. "There never was an East German agent, was there?" He stooped lower. "You're the agent."
"What?" B.A. exclaimed.
"Would you mind explaining, Captain?" Hannibal prodded dryly.
"An undercover agent. He was with East Germany all along. Why turn traitor now? He's being pulled out."
"There's a problem with that theory, Murdock," Face cautioned. "Why did he flee to Switzerland? Why not go straight to Germany?"
"A trap."
Henderson glared at him.
"Think about it. You're on the run from the CIA. Of course they're going to send someone after you. You can't lead them straight to your source. So you stop off somewhere else for a little while, and wait for the agent they've deployed to show up. Take him out, and then continue on with your mission unhindered. This was all an elaborate ploy." He looked at Henderson. "How am I doing so far?"
He said nothing.
"No wonder he was so eager to use his gun," Hannibal murmured. "I'll bet you weren't expecting four guys, huh? One is easy enough to dispatch. But not four." He looked pointedly at the ropes binding Henderson to the chair.
"Hannibal, if he really is with East Germany- and by extension possibly the KGB- this complicates matters if the CIA wants to solve this internally," Face pointed out.
"Perhaps," he replied. "We'll add that information onto our cargo when we see our contact."
"You can't prove that I'm with East Germany!" Henderson retorted loudly.
"Oh, really?" Hannibal grinned. "Your reaction to Murdock's description told us everything. It's amazing what subtleties the face holds."
"But you have no evidence, how could you possibly know?" The last question was directed partially towards Murdock.
Murdock, for his part, suddenly jumped to life and wiggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner. "But don't you know, my good sir? I'm psychic."
Henderson seemed unsure how to respond to that- his face looked like a cross between being astoundingly confused and skeptically angry.
Murdock sobered in the next instant. "Besides, though it was fairly obvious from your 'shoot-to-kill' instinct for a supposed contact, any proof I need is in what I pulled from your coat lining." He withdrew some thin papers and watched Henderson's eyes widen.
"When'd you get that, Murdock?" Face asked.
"When we drove him over here," he replied. "Gotta know where to look- and I'll bet there was no way he was going to let such important material out of his sight."
"So he carried them with him. Lucky us," Hannibal grinned.
"Hey, Hannibal, what are we gonna do with this bag of bones?" the way B.A. gestured Henderson instantly had the man squirming.
"He's a hot item; and we need to get him off our hands fast. I want no less than three of us watching him every moment as we get down to the Embassy. Got it?"
There were nods of understanding and compliance. Henderson glared at them.
"Well? No reason to wait; let's go."
B.A. picked Henderson up and slung him over his shoulder easily, despite his squawking struggles.
"Any trouble B.A.?" Hannibal checked.
"Nope, so long as we don't run into anybody," the big man replied.
"Great. Face, you drive. The rest of us will keep close watch on our friend here."
"Like watchin' paint dry," Murdock said reverently.
Face walked confidently into the American Embassy, despite his inner nervousness and the odd time of night. He kept his turmoil down with a smile. What would happen next? Would the rest of the guys be able to handle Henderson? Was the fact that he wasn't a CIA agent at all a game-changing factor?
He strode up to the desk and smiled at the pretty blonde behind it. "Hi there," he grinned.
"Hello," she replied, looking him up and down, interested. Experience told Face that she liked what she saw. "Can I help you?"
"Ah, yes, I'm looking for a Terry Long? Would you get him, please?"
She smiled. "Of course, I'll be right back."
"And tell him not to tarry too long," he called after her.
Some moments later, a small man came running around the corner. "Here, here, quickly!"
"Ah, Mr. Long?" Face inquired.
"Yes," the man motioned urgently. Face stepped around the corner with him.
"Have you got him?" he chattered.
"In the car out front," Face explained. "Now what?"
"Good, good. Ah, we'll take him off your hands. Different links to the U.S. and all. Need limited outside contact, want to solve this internally ASAP." He spoke all in a rush, and a bit like he'd had too much coffee.
"No problem. Though we did discover one interesting fact. Apparently he was undercover for East Germany. Does this mean anything to you?"
Long jumped in the air, spluttering. "Ah, I, it, what, wait?"
"We have the papers to prove it, too," he added.
He nodded his head vigorously. "Yes, yes, we really need to get him back to the States, now, bring him in- I'll open the back door!" He ran off like a shot, still chattering to himself.
Miffed at the behavior, Face nevertheless returned to the car. Relaying the instructions, the four of them carefully maneuvered Henderson out, and taking no chances, stayed in the shadows as they walked to a different part of the building. Long met them at the door with a couple other men.
"Good, good, it's him, great, thanks, we got it, yes, oh, here are your flight tickets to return home, there, four, thanks, we got it from here, we'll handle it, thanks."
Hannibal narrowed his eyes, suspicious. He handed the airline tickets to Face, who scrutinized them with practiced eyes. "They're good," he murmured.
The jittery Mr. Long was also very dismissive. The door shut in their faces, and the silence that descended was very incongruous to the action they had earlier faced.
"Kind of an abrupt way to end a mission," Face commented.
B.A. grunted. "I'm glad it's over. We don't need to be messin' no more with the CIA. And why'd they give us airplane tickets? Don't they know we're takin' a boat?"
"Uh, B.A., about that," Hannibal put his arm around his shoulder and started walking him back to the car, talking carefully. Face sighed and trailed along behind them.
Only Murdock lingered by the door. He had a feeling he knew why Mr. Long was so dismissive, and even jittery. He slowly took a step away. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe they really would send him back to-
Nope. There was the muffled sound of the gunshot. Pausing, Murdock closed his eyes before joining the others.