Chapter 10

It had been almost 24 hours since they'd escaped Chicago, leaving Lynch's men in the middle of an accident scene behind them. Following Hannibal's plan, they'd taken a winding path through several states to throw off anyone trying to anticipate their next move. They had taken the driving in shifts and now, it was late afternoon. Hannibal slept in the back of the van while BA drove and Face sat in the passenger seat. It was the first time Hannibal had slept since before the confrontation with Lynch.

"I-25 is going to take us to Albuquerque." Face said as he scanned the map they had purchased a few gas stations back. He folded it up, tucked it into the middle console between the seats, and rubbed his eyes. He felt as if he'd been staring at the yellow lines on the road for years. "You tired? I could drive for a while."

BA shook his head. "I'm good for now." He seemed happiest when behind the wheel of the van, so Face didn't push the issue. He was pretty tired and didn't relish any more time driving anyway.

"About time Hannibal got some sleep." Face glanced back at Hannibal, wrapped in a sleeping bag. "I don't know how he stays awake so long."

"The jazz." BA replied simply. "Nothin' can stop Hannibal when he's on the jazz."

Face nodded, thinking about their Colonel. Sometimes Hannibal seemed so simple, easy to figure out, but then sometimes he was as enigmatic as hieroglyphics. He had never been like Face's two previous commanders. Both of them had held a condescending opinion of Hannibal Smith, and they criticized his every mission behind his back. It had only taken a day or two of knowing Hannibal before Face realized their problem with his new superior; they were jealous.

Face had realized that Hannibal was a brilliant commander that first day he'd reported for his new assignment. He'd expected Hannibal to lay down the law the way all of them did initially. He knew there would be an hour-long description of the way things were done on Hannibal's team, and had prepared himself for it before reporting for duty. Instead, the Colonel had motioned him over to the table where he sat.

"What do you see, Lieutenant Peck?" He asked, pointing down at the map which marked out one of the last missions undertaken by Wilcox and Johnson's platoons.

Face had been thrown off. This was not what he'd expected, but he leaned in and studied the map. The mission to destroy an important bridge the previous week had been a disaster of planning and organization, and both platoons involved had been cut-up pretty badly by the NVA. When Hannibal had asked, Face had been hesitant to offer his opinion on the mess, not sure if his new boss had a hand in the planning. "I don't know if I'm in a position to comment, Sir." He replied stiffly.

"Sure you are. Here's the map and troop movements." He gestured. "You have all the information you need. I want to know your opinion, lieutenant."

"May I speak freely, Sir?" He asked.

Hannibal answered him with a broad smile. "Go ahead."

"First of all, two platoons were too many men to do the job. A small group would have been more effective at slipping in and slipping out without notice." Face pointed to several places on the map where troop movements should have been adjusted. "Also, these guys should have never been dropped here. Everyone knows that zone's been too hot." He pointed to a different area on the map. "If they had to go in with so many, they should have been inserted here. It would have been a longer hike, but a safer one."

Hannibal had studied him a moment, then nodded. "That's exactly what I would have done." There was a pause, and then Hannibal went on, "I've heard good things about you, Lieutenant. Nice to know they are true."

"Thank you, sir." Face had replied, keeping his reaction carefully neutral, as he had tried to do since entering the room.

Hannibal regarded him for a moment. "That's a nice poker face kid, but don't use it with me. You can always speak freely. I don't play games, and I don't want you to either. Understand?"

Face's eyes snapped to Hannibal's in surprise. "Yes, Sir." He replied.

Hannibal leaned forward again to glance back down at the map. "This bridge. We're taking it out like they should have last week." Face had nodded, studying the map with new eyes. "And..." Hannibal handed him the map. "I want your plan by tomorrow morning."

"Plan, Sir?" Face had asked.

"I want your plan for taking out this bridge on this table by tomorrow morning. We head out the day after tomorrow."

Just like that, Face had become a valued member of the team. He remembered working the plan until late into the night, and they had gone with it, too, with only a few minor adjustments from Hannibal. Of course, the operation had been a success, like so many of their other missions. Up until then, Face's life in the army had been following orders, saying and doing exactly what was expected of him. Hannibal had changed all of that. He'd made Face rely upon his own talents and abilities and gave him a new sense of responsibility and devotion to his team. Face couldn't even begin to list the things he'd learned in that first year of being in Hannibal's outfit.

"You fallin' asleep on me, Faceman?" BA's voice broke into Face's thoughts. If BA was prodding him for conversation, Face knew he really must have been daydreaming for a while.

He shook his head, sat up, and stretched. "No. Just thinking about the first time I met Hannibal." Face replied. "He wasn't what I expected."

"He ain't never what anyone expects." BA agreed, then gave Face a quick glance before turning his eyes back to the road. "Neither are you." BA was still impressed by Face's actions at the diner.

Face started to make a joke about how BA should thank him, but he knew it wasn't the right response. Both BA and Hannibal had already complimented him for his fast response with Lynch, and it was telling that BA thought enough of it to mention it again. "It was nothing. I just can't figure out how Lynch found us. He's either a really lucky man, or …"

"I been thinkin' about that." BA said, passing an extremely slow moving truck. "I think the waitress tipped them off." He had been going over the meeting in his mind and remembered how she had never come back after bringing the food to the table. He'd seen her glancing at him and talking to the cook, just a few moments before Hannibal had come in and given the signal that it was time to go.

"Could be." Face agreed. "Maybe we'll hear about it on the news." There had been a little chatter on the radio, but nothing detailed, and they hadn't seen a TV since lunch, before the meeting with BA's mom.

"Maybe." BA agreed. "Speakin' of the news, we got to call Murdock. Find out what the crazy fool's doin'. If Lynch was talkin' to my mama, you know he's been grillin' Murdock or he had somebody doin' it for him."

Face nodded. "Let's hope, for Lynch's sake, that he hasn't done anything else to Murdock." He thought back to Murdock being shot. He had never seen Hannibal so angry; he would never forgive Lynch for shooting and then interrogating his captain. "I think we should stop in Albuquerque to eat and make the phone call."

BA agreed. "We got a couple more hours before we get there. What disguise you think Hannibal will use this time?"

Hannibal chose a new persona for this stop. Apparently Murdock had thrown in several western styled shirts that would have made any Grand Ole' Opry cowboy proud. They were nauseating to look at, and Face didn't hesitate to give his opinion while Hannibal changed in the back of the van, then headed inside the little truck stop to get dinner.

He came back out with two bags of hamburgers and fries. After they ate, Hannibal had suggested that Face wear the other matching cowboy shirt, which was in a garish shade of robin's egg blue. Face grumbled, especially after hearing BA's laugh from the front seat, but he consoled himself with the fact that he wouldn't have to wear the hideous outfit for long. The disguises were perfect, however, and he and Hannibal drew no undue attention as they went back into the restaurant and made the phone call to Murdock from the phone booths in the back.

Face glanced at Hannibal, who sat next to the phone booth listening. "Westwood, VA," the voice on the other line said after several rings.

"Ah, yes. Can you transfer me to the Psychiatric Ward, please?" He gave Hannibal a thumbs-up. An unfamiliar nurse answered, so he asked, "May I please speak with Laurie?"

"Sure. Hold on." A long pause, then a familiar voice followed. "This is Nurse Basden."

"Hi. It's Lieutenant Peterson." He said, glad for the quiet in the back of the restaurant to help him maintain the pretense of being in an office back at Womack Medical Center.

"Oh! Hello. I was wondering if you were going to call back." She sounded extremely pleased to hear from him.

"Well, you know how it is. Just mounds of paperwork." He said. "How's the Captain? I wanted to call sooner to check on him, but this is really the first chance I've had. Things have been . . . ah. . . .hectic." He glanced at Hannibal, who rolled his eyes at the obvious understatement.

"Well, there's good news and bad news. The good news is that he can actually take phone calls now. The bad news is that he's going to be here a while." She said, a sad note in her voice. She lowered it to a whisper as she went on. "His psych evaluation didn't go well. He's been diagnosed with paranoid delusions and intermittent memory loss. The doctor doesn't have plans to release him any time soon."

She paused, then continued in a whisper. "The strange thing is that these MP's have been coming to question him. Dr. Richter wouldn't allow it, but he's out of town this weekend, and as soon as he left, these MP's came in and bullied the on-call doctor into letting them see the Captain. They were with him for about two hours. He was really upset when they left, and he wouldn't talk to anyone. That's about all I can tell you." She tried to brighten her voice. "Would you like to speak to him? He was really glad to get your message before, and I know talking to you would probably cheer him up."

Face replied too quickly. He didn't like the sound of what Laurie was saying at all. "Yes. That would be wonderful."

"I'll transfer you to his room. Hang on." Another pause and then a click.

The phone rang four times before Murdock's voice came across the line, sounding very tired. "What do you want now?"

"Murdock. It's me, Trevor Peterson." Face said, locking eyes meaningfully with Hannibal. The colonel had leaned forward, so he could overhear as much of the conversation as possible.

"Is it?" Murdock immediately lowered his voice.

"I've got an origami tiger to prove it." Face said. He could have chosen a million other things to prove he was who he said, but all of them would have given away his identity. The room or phone might be bugged, or people might be listening, so he tread carefully. "How . . .how are you?" He asked.

"Incurably insane." Murdock replied, his tone serious and careful. "How are you?" Once again, Face and Hannibal exchanged a look. It was hard to tell how much of this was being put on for someone else's benefit, and how much was real.

"I'm good for now." Face answered. "Is there anyone with you?"

"My dog Billy's the only one here right now. I've had lots of other visitors with uniforms today—you know. It's nice to hear from one of my friends back at Bragg. Do you know there's lots of bugs in California? I hate bugs. These are nothing like the bugs you guys have back there. These hide really well, but I found them."

"Did you?" Face was at a loss. Murdock was trying to give him a hint that the room or phone had been bugged. "Where did you find them?"

"Oh crawling everywhere. Under things, inside things, you know. I think I squashed 'em all, but you never know when you might miss one. They're sneaky little bugs."

Face exchanged another look with Hannibal. Murdock was afraid he'd missed finding a bug, so he was urging them to be careful. "I was calling to check on you, Murdock. All the guys back at Bragg were kind of worried about you. You doing okay?"

"Yes and no." He returned, and it was uncertain what he meant exactly by that. Face almost asked a question to clarify, but Murdock went on before he had a chance. "How's the rest of the family?" He asked. "Everyone okay?"

"Yeah. We're great." He replied.

"Are you sure? Everyone's okay?" Murdock's tone seemed a little less controlled and Face could sense his worry.

"Yeah. We're all in good health." Face assured him.

"That's not what I heard from my other friends today. But I'm glad to find out I was misinformed. Somebody was playing a really mean trick. Hang on a second…" Face and Hannibal listened, and they could hear Murdock telling 'Billy' to quiet down and stop barking. There was no sound of a dog in the background. A thread of worry began to work itself into Face's thoughts, but he tried to tell himself this was probably an act, put on for the benefit of anyone listening in.

"Murdock. They let you have a dog?" Face asked.

"Sure. Billy's just a puppy, so he barks a lot, you know. I'm surprised you can't hear him."

Face frowned, but didn't ask too many more questions for fear of blowing Murdock's cover, if indeed it was a cover. "You know, some of the guys at Bragg are thinking about taking leave and flying out there to see you. Do you think that would be okay?"

Murdock seemed to ponder it a moment. "Yeah. But just be careful, Trevor. You gotta watch out for aliens and their heat rays."

"You know we will. Too bad you can't fly us yourself."

"I know. Wish I could, but they don't let us have things like that around here. No sharp objects, shoestrings, airplanes or choppers. Where's the fun in that? I tried to tell 'em, but you know how that goes. Hang on…" There was the noise of feet crossing the room, then coming back. "I gotta go. I think I see some more aliens now. Watch yourself, Trev. Tell everyone I said hi."

"Murdock—" Face began, but the connection was terminated. He hung up the phone and glanced unhappily at Hannibal.

"I know. Come on." Hannibal said grimly. He hadn't liked Murdock's comment about the mean trick someone played on him. Hannibal knew it must have been some of Lynch's goons. Who knew what kind of lies they had told the captain, trying to pry more information out of him? And if Murdock really was having trouble holding onto reality, that kind of stress was the last thing he needed. It only made him angrier at Lynch. He tried to rein that in, knowing he wouldn't make good decisions if he let his anger get the best of him.

As Hannibal climbed into the van's front seat, he satisfied his anger by making a promise. He would make Lynch pay for this, in one way or another.

To be continued…