Chapter 6
It was three that afternoon before B.A. and Face came out of the back bedroom. The two of them didn't look as if they had entirely woken up yet, but neither did they look rested. "I must have dreamed Lynch was after us the whole time." Face muttered as he plopped down on the couch in the living room next to Hannibal. B.A. simply growled his agreement as he took a large armchair.
Hannibal looked both of them over. "Aww, come on, guys. Don't let Lynch worry you." He gestured to the TV. "He's searching Atlanta for us. That ought to keep him busy 'till next week sometime." He grinned, then went on. "In the meantime, I've been working on the plan." He leaned forward. "We need to check on our 'missing man.'" He looked to Face. "That's your arena, Lieutenant."
Face nodded. "I've been thinking about that, and I've got an idea. Can I use the phone in the back?" He asked Matt, who nodded.
Face got a notepad and pencil, then headed into the bedroom in the rear of the house. As he did every time he ran a con, he closed his eyes and worked on convincing himself that he really was the persona he was taking on. It was easy enough to do; but sometimes the phone cons were harder than the face to face ones.
He opened his eyes and glanced up, keeping his mind on the business at hand. He dialed information and obtained several numbers. The first was for the San Francisco VA. He had to be transferred to several different nurses before he found that Murdock wasn't there. He tried the second VA, in Fresno, with no success. The third time. . .he hoped this one would be the charm as he waited through the interminable telephone rings.
"Westwood VA, how may I direct your call?" The nurse on the other end sounded pretty old, so Face modified his approach, attempting to sound polite and younger than he was, like this woman's favorite grandchild. With the last two calls, he'd put some velvet into his voice for the younger nurses that had answered the phone.
"Yes, ma'am. My name is Trevor Peterson. Lieutenant Trevor Peterson? I'm doing a follow up on a patient we had here at Womack Medical Center last week." He rattled some of the notepaper near the phone, to sound as if he were going through files. "A Captain H. M. Murdock? I'm just having a terrible time locating him. One set of paperwork says he was transferred to your facility and then another set says he went to Fresno. If I can't get this straight, I'm going to be in a lot of hot water. I sure would appreciate it, ma'am, if you could verify that he's there…" Face bit his lip, waiting for her answer.
"Hold on, Lieutenant. I'll check for you." The nurse was gone a moment, then returned. She had a brisk manner. "Yes. He's here. Just arrived, in fact. Let me transfer you to the psychiatric ward."
"Thank you, Ma'am." Face replied. "You've been really helpful." The woman didn't reply, but Face barely had time to think about it before the next voice came on the phone.
"Psychiatric." This was a younger one, he could already tell. Another subtle shifting of personalities began.
"Hi. My name's—"
"Get an orderly in there!" The voice on the phone was accompanied by a loud crashing sound, and what sounded like a battle cry in the background. "I'm very sorry." She came back on the line. "This is Nurse Basden—what can I do for you?" The woman sounded harried and overwhelmed.
"Hi. I'm Lieutenant Trevor Peterson." Face began. "I'm doing a follow up on a patient we had here at Womack Medical Center last week. He just got transferred to your facility."
"Okay." She began, still sounding distracted. There was the sound of a yell in the background on the other end of the phone. "Can you hold one moment? I promise I'll be right back -- " Without waiting for an answer, the phone was put down. He listened intently, trying to imagine what must be going on where she was.
There were more crashing sounds, clearly audible. Wherever the commotion was occurring, it was obviously close to the phone, which was probably at a nurse's station. Then Face heard a familiar voice.
"….not going in there…ammonia on the floor…I told them about…" He could only hear snatches of Murdock's voice. "It hurts . . . feet…" There were the softer sounds of Nurse Basden talking to Murdock, then his ranting was gone.
The phone was retrieved. "I'm sorry. I just had to get our new patient in his room." She continued on. "Lieutenant . . .what can I do for you again?"
Face struggled a moment to find his voice. Hearing Murdock in the background had been unexpected. "Yes. Um. . . as I said, I was doing a follow up on a patient we had here at Womack. A Captain Murdock?"
"Ohhhhh. Yes." He heard a heavy sigh in her voice. "He just arrived a little while ago. In fact, I just got him into his room."
"That was Captain Murdock making all that noise?" Face asked with what he hoped was the right degree of disbelief. He wondered exactly how much information he could get out of her.
"Oh yes. He's having some trouble settling in. They sometimes do." She replied. "He'll be alright though. He seems very disoriented, but I'm going to keep an eye on him and make sure he does okay. Did you know him personally, or are you just doing follow - ups?"
"Both." Face replied.
"Okay." There was a little hmmmm noise as she glanced through paperwork. Face could hear it rustling over the phone. "His gunshot wound is healing up nicely—no sign of infection. He's been put under the care of Dr. Richter. There'll be some psych tests and evaluations in the next day or two. Other than that, there's not much more I can tell you."
"I really appreciate this." Face said. "Nurse, may I call you back and check on his progress? The guys on base would really like to know how he's doing, and um. . .I can't begin tell you how I would appreciate it." He laid on the charm as thickly as possible, putting emphasis in all the right places. If there was one thing he was good at, this was it.
"I'm not really supposed to give out patient information." She began, but because she sounded reluctant to refuse his request, he knew he had her.
"I'm not asking for any personal details." Face clarified. "I'd just be checking to make sure he's doing okay." He lowered his voice, putting just the right note of sadness into it. Giving a mark a sob story was one of the cardinal rules of a con. "You know, he doesn't have a lot of family to speak of. We're kind of like his only family. His mother died when he was very young."
She sighed, giving in. "Oh, I guess so. . . You know if Dr. Richter okays it, he'll be able to take phone calls in a few days—so you can talk to him yourself." She replied, and he heard a smile in her voice as she lowered it to speak into the phone. "I'll try to help you out as much as I can. Just ask for Laurie. He's one of my patients, so I'd be able to give you the best information." The note he heard in her voice was all for him. "You're all the way over there at Bragg, huh? You don't ever get over to the West Coast, do you?"
She asked.
"You might be surprised, Laurie. I might just show up on your doorstep one day," he replied, then remembered another rule: always leave them wanting more. "Well, I hate to go, but I've got a lot of work to catch up on here." He said reluctantly. "Can you give the Captain a message from me?"
"Sure." She replied. There was a pause, then she went on. "I've got a pencil."
"Tell him that Trevor Peterson says 'the secret's safe.' It's a private joke that he used to have with a few guys on base. Maybe it'll cheer him up." Face hoped that the initials of his alias, and the message would let Murdock know who had sent it.
"Will do." She replied. "I hope to talk to you again, Lieutenant."
"Trevor, please." He said, putting a little sparkle into his voice. With this woman, it wasn't hard at all. "And I'm sure we'll talk again very soon. Bye."
"Bye." The connection was lost, and Face hung up the phone. Mission accomplished.
Hannibal looked up, surprised at how quickly Face came back out of the bedroom. "So, how'd it go, kid?"
Face sat down with his notepad, then revealed what he'd found out. "Murdock's in the Westwood VA in Los Angeles. I've got a contact there, so we can check up on him. He's healing up okay, she says. I could actually hear him in the background."
"So what did you hear?" B.A. asked.
"He sounded . . ." Face looked at both of them and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, he sounded crazy. Yelling about stuff. I couldn't really make sense of it."
"I knew the fool really went crazy." B.A. muttered to himself.
"Now hold it, B.A.. We don't know anything for sure." Hannibal paused for a moment, thinking, then continued. "But I'd feel better if we checked him out ourselves."
"Agreed." Face replied as B.A. nodded.
Hannibal continued, "Looks like we're in for a long road trip. We're going to need some sort of transportation."
"Sounds like my cue." Face said, starting to stand.
"No!" B.A. replied, so forcefully that Face sat back down, surprised. "We're not stealing a car!"
"B.A., it's not stealing, it's borrowing." Face reasoned. "Besides, you didn't seem to mind back on the base."
"That was different. We didn't have a choice -- we needed that car to get away. And we gave it back. You plan on giving this car back?"
"Well…" Face hedged.
"Then it's stealing! And we ain't gonna do it. We'll buy one or I'll get a junk car and fix it up. But we're not stealing one. And that's final. I may be a fugitive, but I ain't no thief."
Face jumped up from his chair, angry. "Now just wait a minute! Are you calling me a thief?"
BA rose up out of his chair as well. "Yes! I am! You're a thief! You take things and don't give 'em back. Saw you do it all the time in 'Nam, and now you're doin' it here too. That may be fine with you, but it 'aint with me."
"Now wait just one second! I never stole from anyone! I persuaded them. And there's a world of difference! I never took anything from anyone who didn't want to give it to me. And before you get on your high horse, you should remember that you benefited from my skills many times!"
"High horse! Just 'cause my mama taught me some values, now I'm on a high horse?"
"Alright, guys," Hannibal interrupted, "knock it off. You can sort it out later. But since BA is going to be driving, let's do this one his way. I'll go ask Matt is there's an auto salvage yard around where we can find a car."
"That's it!" Hannibal said smiling, pointing to a 1967 GMC Handi-van.
"What?" B.A. exclaimed. "That piece of junk?" He looked disbelieving at the van -- dented door, rusted fenders, broken windshield, torn upholstery… the list went on and on. And that was just what he could see from the outside. Who knows what he would find under the hood?
"Come on, B.A. It's perfect! There are hardly any windows so we don't have to worry about people seeing inside. There's plenty of room for our gear, and, in a pinch, we can sleep in it. Like I said, it's perfect!"
"I dunno know, Hannibal…" B.A. replied, still shaking his head.
Hannibal clasped his arm around B.A.'s shoulder. "Look at it as a challenge. If you can fix this up, then you can fix anything."
"I guess…" B.A. walked over and popped the hood of the van. It wasn't pretty -- the van needed almost everything: hoses, plugs, a battery, and a more powerful engine. It would take a few days, but he could get it done.
"Oh no… " Face had wandered over to the van from where he had been looking at sports cars. "Not this one!"
B.A. popped out from under the van's hood and glared at Face.
"Aww, B.A.. That van. . . .It looks like. . ." Face eyed the van with skepticism, then looked into B.A.'s eyes.
"What? It looks like a van. Say anything else, sucka and I'll shove a wrench down your throat. Nobody makes fun of my ride."
Undeterred, Face turned to Hannibal. "Hannibal! It's a wreck! BA can't fix that thing up!"
"Face, you're barking up the wrong tree here. It was my idea in the first place. And we're taking it."
B.A. mulled over the events of the past days as he fixed up the van. He did feel bad for calling Face a thief, and had been ready to apologize. That was, until Face insulted his mechanical skills and the van. And why should he be the one to apologize anyway? Face was just as much in the wrong as he was. Just like a snooty officer, to expect everyone else to do the hard work.
After three long days, B.A. was finished. He had changed out almost everything under the hood, souped-up the engine, replaced the seats, and had even managed to paint the van black.
Even Face had to admit the van looked pretty good. As a peace offering, he handed B.A. a white envelope.
"What's this?" B.A. growled.
"Open it and see."
B.A. tore open the envelope to find a forged title and registration for the vehicle. He looked up questioningly to Face.
"You can't exactly go down to the DMV and register the car. So I made those for you."
B.A. continued to stare blankly, stunned by Face's thoughtfulness and ashamed of how he had misjudged him.
Face looked down at the ground and shifted his weight back and forth on his feet a few times. He then cleared his throat and looked up at B.A.. "So, are we good now?"
B.A. looked at Face for a few moments more, then offered his hand. "Yeah, we're good. Thanks. And, uh, sorry 'bout the thief thing. I know you ain't one."
"You sure you don't want to stay the night and start out early in the morning?"
"No, Matt, but thank you anyway. We've stayed in one place long enough." And put you at risk too, Hannibal thought. It was best to leave now.
Matt lowered his voice. "Remember what I said—do what you think is best. That's all you can do." Clearing his throat, Matt added. "You have always been one of my best men." He didn't say more, but reached out, briefly placing his hand on Hannibal's shoulder.
"All done." Face said, emerging from the van. While B.A. was showering, he had been packing the van with the supplies he had gathered for the trip. He had all of the usual items -- food, water, warm clothing, and sleeping bags. He had also managed to obtain a police scanner, extra license plates, and several wigs and fake beards to use for disguises. "As soon as B.A. is ready, we can head out."
As if on cue, B.A. emerged from the house, carrying a small bag containing his belongings. He placed the bag in the back of the van, then turned to face the rest of the men. "I'm ready -- let's go."
Handshakes were exchanged all around, along with sincere "thank yous" and "good lucks". B.A. climbed into the driver's seat and started the van. Hannibal slid into the passenger seat, while Face slipped in the back and closed the door. They waved, then B.A. backed the van out of the driveway and drove off into the night.
To be continued…