Back at the station, the oddities continued to mount up. The four men point blank refused to submit to finger-printing, unless they were under arrest. Given little option, Horatio had had no choice but to arrest them. BA had gone to cause trouble, but had gruffly given in at a single shake of Hannibal's head. So not only military, Horatio mused, but extremely well-trained military. A team of long standing. The four men were separated and held in four interview room, out of sight of each other. Horatio stood in the observation room, watching Hannibal stare out of the window. He showed no sign of worry or strain at all, and Horatio was left to wonder exactly who these men were. They obviously didn't want to be identified, pointing to them being on the run from someone, and yet were unconcerned by the fact that they had been arrested.

"Strange bunch, aren't they?" Calleigh said, leaning against the door frame. "Face has just spent the last ten minutes chatting to Valera, flirting madly, and she's now in love with him. I had to physically remove her from the room. Not," she added with a bright smile, "that he's not very attractive, but she probably shouldn't be that friendly with him."

"Strange seems to sum them all up very well." Horatio smiled at the memory of Ryan Wolfe trying to get Murdoch's fingerprints. The man had, for no apparent reason, decided to talk only in French, and then had descended into pretending he was an aeroplane, zooming around the round with his arms held out as wings. Wolfe had been at a loss as to how to cope, and Eric had been laughing too much to help.

"H?" Eric came in then, holding the results of the AFIS search. To Horatio's surprise, Eric looked shaken. "H, you are not going to believe this. These guys…they're, well, they're wanted by the Feds, and by the army. Apparently they've been on the run for ten years or more."

Arching an eyebrow, Horatio scanned the AFIS results. "Colonel John 'Hannibal' Smith, Lieutenant Templeton 'Faceman' Peck, Captain HM Murdoch and Sergeant Bosco 'BA' Baracus. Hmm, they've amassed quite a rap sheet. The army wants them for a bank robbery they committed in Baghdad?"

"This lot claim they had orders to rob the bank, but the army denies it." Eric shook his head. "I can't believe we caught the A-Team. And it was so easy."

"Yes, it was, wasn't it?" Horatio asked rhetorically, turning back to study Hannibal again. "Considering their reputation, it was extremely easy. I wonder…." Eric and Calleigh were left without the continuation of that thought, as Horatio, his eyes narrowed, made his way into the interview room. "Colonel," he greeted the prisoner politely. Hannibal turned to grin back at him, but remained standing, staring out of the window. "Our database has just confirmed that you are Colonel John 'Hannibal' Smith, the leader of the A-Team. Right?"

"Never heard of him," Smith declared, a broad smile on his face. "The A-Team, huh? I heard that they were this uncatchable team of mercenaries who were responsible for lowering the crime rate in LA. Famous, aren't they?"

"Infamous is a better word," Horatio countered. "So the A-Team works for money. I wonder who paid them for this job?"

"What job?"

Horatio smiled. "We both know what we're talking about Colonel. Why don't you cut all the double talk?"

"Because it's so much fun?" Hannibal grinned again. "If you already know who I am, why are you playing this game?"

"The same reason you are," Horatio rejoined, sitting down at the table. "Colonel, we know who you are. One of my team will be alerting the Feds about your presence here as we speak." Eric and Calleigh exchanged looks: Horatio hadn't told them to do that. Were they meant to?

"Wait till Horatio is done, then we'll ask him," Calleigh decided with a shrug. "I'm sure he knows what he's doing."

"Am I meant to be worried?" Hannibal asked, sitting down opposite Horatio. "If you know all about us, then you'll know we've never stayed behind bars for longer than 24 hours before escaping. I'd give this place about eight hours. You look reasonably organised."

"You will not be escaping this time," Horatio said firmly.

"Yeah we will." Smith was infuriatingly confident, leaning back in his chair. "You see, I have to take care of my team. I think you understand that. Right, Lieutenant?" Horatio stood up abruptly, aware that Smith had hit a raw nerve. "Yeah," Hannibal nodded slowly, "you understand that all right. Lost one of 'em recently, did ya?" Oddly, there was only sympathy in the other's man voice, with none of the teasing mockery of earlier.

"Is there anything we can get you?" Horatio asked coldly. "A lawyer perhaps?"

Laughing, Hannibal shook his head. "Nah, I'm good. I could do with a coffee though. Oh, and can you get BA some milk? He doesn't much like coffee. And don't give Murdoch caffeine. The results aren't for those with weak stomachs." He winked at Horatio, who shook his head. Criminals were often confident that they would get off, but never so laid-back and totally unconcerned.

Calleigh and Eric looked equally as bemused. "Uh, should we have called the Feds, H?" Eric asked when Horatio rejoined them in the observation room.

"I don't think so," he said slowly. "Let's just see what the others say first."

Frank Tripp sat in on the other interviews, but they were just as unproductive, and Horatio was left with nothing but a blinding headache. BA had point-blank refused to say anything, except when Horatio got him a glass of milk. Then BA had thanked him, and told him to be careful around 'that crazy fool Murdoch', before falling silent again. Murdoch had told him categorically that he was insane, and that it was therefore wrong to keep him locked up. With a shrug, Horatio had left him with the department psychiatrist, who was looking increasingly harassed. Face had provided the headache. Horatio hadn't met anyone who could talk so fast, and lie so convincingly. It was only the solid evidence of fingerprints that prevented Tripp from deciding that it had all been a big mistake and releasing all four of them.

Horatio called a team meeting at the end of the day, to try to make sense of the situation. The psychiatrist, a Dr Vivian Chalmers, also joined them, looking as though she needed a large whisky. "Doctor, what can you tell us about Captain Murdoch?"

"He's mad," she said shortly. "Or at least, he's extremely good at pretending to be. I've looked through his medical records from the VA in LA, and he seems to have every psychotic disease known to man. He's been schizophrenic, sociopathic, had hallucinations, heard voices, developed twitches and anything else you can think of. He currently seems to believe that the only way to prevent the aliens from attacking him, and Lieutenant I'm afraid you and Detective Tripp are aliens to him, is for him to have a regular supply of trash bags. In order to keep him quiet, I've told the officers in charge of lock-up to just keep him happy." She shrugged helplessly. "To be honest, I'm still not entirely convinced he is mad. But he certainly seems to think he is."

"This is the weirdest bunch of crackpots we've ever had, and I know we've all met some crazies," Tripp said, shaking his head. "How in the hell are they this dangerous, when they're all stark, staring mad? We had them all put in lock-up, in separate cells, and instantly that Baracus started to cause trouble, and beat up one of the guards. So, now, they're all in solitary confinement, just in case. How that's meant to help them escape, I don't know."

Horatio turned to the detective slowly. "They're all in solitary? Next to each other?"

"Well, yeah, but…."

Tripp didn't get a chance to finish his sentence, as Horatio had already left the room, heading towards lock-up. He was a minute too late, however, as he found the guard tied up with the industrial strength trash bags that Murdoch had spent the afternoon clamouring for. Cutting him loose, he sighed. "So, how did they do this, Officer?"

"I, I don't know, sir," the young officer stammered. "The blond man's cell door just seemed to swing open, and then he hit me, and, and tied me up, and took my keys!"

Lieutenant Templeton Peck – a skilled conman and thief. The words from Peck's file rose in Horatio's mind and he swallowed the urge to curse. So he had to be an expert at picking locks as well. "When did they get out?"

"About five minutes before you arrived sir."

Horatio was already gone, issuing orders for all officers to be on the look out for the A-Team. "Do not approach - they are armed and dangerous," he ordered, knowing the lie might just protect some of the officers. The A-Team might not be armed just yet, but they were certainly dangerous.