Horatio was reading the book found in the van, detailing all of the A-Team's dealings with General Morrison, apparently lost in thought. Flicking back to the beginning, he frowned. According to this, Hannibal had had specific orders to rob the bank in Baghdad, as part of the operation to destabilise Saddam Hussein's regime. This was, of course, before Desert Storm had finished, and before the alliance had decided not to invade as far as Baghdad. It would be another thirteen years before an American army would invade Baghdad and replace Hussein and his government. Morrison had handily died before the A-Team's court martial, and so they had been convicted.

"What are you thinking Handsome?" He looked up and smiled at Calleigh, pleased to hear her happy and joking again. Hagen had dampened her spirits, and he blamed himself for not being there to help her through. Raymond, he sighed. A lot lay at his brother's door. Still, Calleigh was smiling again.

"I'm thinking that the A-Team might have been wrongly convicted." He gestured to the notebook. "I think they were set up."

"Really?"

"It's beginning to look like it. I'll have to check up on some of these details. What about you?"

"Well, none of the guns have their serial numbers on, and they've been filed down so far that there's no way of reconstructing them. But, I did match striations from several of the weapons to incidents from LA. They were usually at scenes where the cops would find the latest gangster tied up, with a note from the A-Team."

"How did you find that out?"

"Ah, the great international network that is ballistics," Calleigh laughed. "I called Harry Levine, a ballistics expert I met at a conference. He works for the LAPD, and filled me in. You know, most of the LA cops think the A-Team are pretty good guys. They always go after the really bad guys, and then hand them over to the cops. Maybe you're right."

"Maybe." Horatio gave her a half-smile. "Is that army colonel still around?"

"Nope, Eric sent him off with a flea in his ear. It's safe to come out," she teased. "Eric's still testing the mud from the tires, I don't know where Ryan is."

"I'm sure he'll show up. Calleigh, can you check some dates for me? I'd like to be certain about this before I tell anyone else."

"No problem Handsome." She smiled widely. "Our secret, I promise."

"Mud is mud, Delko. What the hell can mud prove other than they needed to wash their van more often?" Tripp sighed, and leaned against the workbench.

"Mud isn't just mud Frank," Eric replied, shaking his head. "How many times a week do you come in here? You should know by now that mud is never just mud. This mud is peat, and from the Everglades. More than that, this soil has a pH of 6.5." Eric said it as though it should mean something. The Texan just stared levelly at him. "That's the best pH for growing celery. Combine that with the fertiliser I just isolated, and we can find where they've been hiding out."

"All that from mud," Frank muttered. "I think I liked it better when policing was more about talking to people, not crops."

"Progress is a wonderful thing," Horatio commented dryly from the doorway. "Can we find out which farm they're using as their base?"

"Yep, just searching the database now. OK, based on the fertiliser, and the fact that they're growing celery, they're out on the very edge of the Glades, near the Tamiami Trail. It's got to be the Gladesdale Farm, owned by Rory Pardew."

"Gladesdale? Who thought up that name?" Tripp grumbled, as he led the way out of the lab. Horatio, laughing silently, followed him.

The Gladesdale Farm was on the very edge of the Glades, just outside the swamplands that made up the National Park. Rory Pardew was sipping coffee on the porch of his large, Plantation style house when they pulled up, and made no move to stand and greet them. Large and chubby, Pardew didn't look like he did much manual labour. Small, dark eyes watched the policemen suspiciously as they approached him, but he still didn't stand.

"Mr Pardew?"

"What can I do for ya?" he drawled, making a great show of drinking his coffee and then leaning forward expectantly.

"We'd like to take a look around your farm," Horatio told him.

"Then you're gonna need a warrant," Pardew replied, leaning back again. "I'm no friend to the cops."

"We can see that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he said sharply, sitting up straight.

"Well," Horatio said in that deceptively polite tone that usually meant he held an ace that no one else knew about – Tripp grinned as he heard him. "Well, Mr Pardew, I can saw a couple of workers on our way in, and I'd bet they don't have papers. I can check them, if you'd like."

Suddenly looking a lot more interested in his visitors, Pardew stood up. "No call for that Officer."

"It's Lieutenant," Horatio corrected him sharply.

"Lieutenant, then. What are you looking for?"

"We'd just like to look around." Horatio saw no point in giving away anything – it was impossible to tell if Pardew knew the A-Team was using his farm. He suspected that the farmer had no idea. He just didn't seem the type that Hannibal would trust.

"Well, I guess that would be all right…."

"Uh H?" Tripp interrupted Pardew. "We might have a problem here." He indicated over his shoulder, where a dark green town car, with white letters proclaiming it was a Military Police vehicle emblazoned on the side, was making its way towards the house. "I think the MPs are here."

Horatio sighed. "Just what we needed." He waited until the car parked before he approached, a small smile on his lips. "What can we do for you Colonel?"

"You're in charge of the hunt for the A-Team?"

"I am."

"Not any more," he said, glaring at Horatio. "I'm Colonel Decker, and this is my operation. The A-Team are mine. And I am going to catch them. And you should talk to your CSI Delko. He needs to learn how to speak to superior officers."

"You're not his superior officer," Horatio said mildly. "Eric knows that respect is earned, not given. I stand by anything any one of my CSIs says. And the A-Team have committed crimes in Miami, making them my problem. We can share information if you like."

"You will stay away from the A-Team, you hear me Caine?" Decker spat at him. "I've heard all about your lab and you, and the problems you cause for federal officers." Horatio only arched an eyebrow, clearly amused. "You and your team are off this case. We won't be sharing any information with you." He turned to the three MPs who had accompanied him. "Search this place for any sign of Smith and the others."

Decker and the others stalked off, leaving Horatio and Tripp to watch them. "Charming, isn't he?"

"I know which Colonel I prefer," Tripp agreed gruffly. "We're not really going to stop looking for the A-Team, are we?"

"When was the last time we stopped half-way through a case?" Horatio asked rhetorically. "Let's let Decker have this place. We're going to need more than where they have been to find Hannibal and the others anyway."

Tripp shot the shorter man a keen look that belied the simple exterior the detective usually presented to the world. "You like him, don't you H?"

Horatio shook his head ruefully. "It doesn't matter whether I like him or not Frank. They've still committed a crime. We still need to catch them."

"Yeah, but you liked them."

A sigh, and Horatio admitted, "Yes, I did like Hannibal. But, like I said, it doesn't matter."