THE MULE KICKS BACK

Part Five:

A Cuckoo in the Nest

"This is the very last time!" Face muttered as he took his hand from the steering wheel to nervously straighten his tie.

Murdock threw him a questioning look. "Last time for what, Face?"

"I am never putting on an army uniform, producing a fake ID, and never going to talk my way on to one more army base, well at least until I get my pardon anyway!"

"But you look so debonair in your uniform, Face – you always wore it well." Murdock chuckled. "I could almost go for you myself."

"Don't even go there, Murdock!" Face snapped as he drew up the car to the guard point in front of the gates of Fort Ingram. The guard stepped forward and snapped off a salute which Face, making the instant change from depressed whiner to confident conman, returned.

"Hello, I'm Captain Murphy and this is Captain Grabham," he indicated to Murdock who smiled blandly from the other seat. Face flashed his dubious ID as he continued "We've from the Pentagon Inventory Corps and we are here to conduct an inventory."

The fresh faced young Private looked as if he was about to wet his pants but he gulped his trepidation down and nodded. "Just a second, Sir," he replied. "I need to check the schedule." He turned back to the guard house.

"Of course," Face waited, the picture of patience.

Murdock began to hum very softly.

Peck threw him an agitated glare. "Stop it!" he hissed.

Murdock, rapidly descending into his most crazy simply smiled and hummed louder. Much to Face's chagrin, the song was most certainly 'Over the Rainbow'.

"I'm sorry, Sir," the Private returned looking even more worried, as he gazed down at the clip board in his hand. "What did you say your names were?"

"Murphy – Captain John Murphy," Face responded with the merest hint of impatience. "And this is Captain Ulysses Grabham."

Murdock leaned over and batted his eyelids at the young soldier, stopping his humming to say in a high pitched voice. "But you can call me Dorothy!" He blinked and then continued quite seriously, "Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high, there's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby."

"What?" the guard looked up in surprise.

Face snorted, threw Murdock his most infuriated stare and then got out of the car so quickly he managed to bang the guard's shin with his door.

As the soldier let out a wail and bent down to rub his leg, Face said, "It's a salutary experience soldier, isn't it?" he stepped forward.

"What, Sir?" the soldier said through gritted teeth.

"To see it at first hand."

"See what?"

Face sighed, eying the bemused young soldier minutely and lowered his voice. "You've never been to war, have you, son?"

"No Sir – I only got posted here out of boot camp last week."

Face nodded, sagely ignoring the strains of Over the Rainbow;

"Some day I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where troubles melt like lemondrops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me "

that now could be distinctly heard coming from the car behind him.

"Attention!" Face barked and the young soldier stopped rubbing his shin and assumed the position immediately. "Well, you make a fine figure of a man, if I may say so, soldier – well turned out, handsome; you're a credit to this man's army. Now, I must be on my way."

"Begging your pardon, Sir!" the Private's voice was rather flaky and he looked quite sick but he forced himself to continue. "You're not down on the list."

"Not down on the list!" Face stepped back.

"No, Sir," the guard proffered the clip board awkwardly. "If I haven't been notified then I can't let you in… Sir."

"Can't let me in!" The flicker of impatience had been stoked into a fiery flame and Face was positively blustering now. Murdock hit a particularly high note and Peck shook his head. "Haven't you ever heard of the condition Combat Stress, soldier? But of course not because you haven't ever been in a combat situation, have you? Well, let me tell you, Captain Grabham was one of the best, if not the best. He took out machine gun nests single-handedly, he liberated whole villages, why he could do anything! Do you think a man like that wants to be assigned to Inventory? Do you think he is pleased by the fact that he finally let it get to him, that he took one mission too many. Of course he's not soldier but pride in a job well done is all he has left. He might not be able to lead an assault or fire a gun any more but he can damn well count paper clips and that's just as important in this army – it's what makes us great! So would you deny such a soldier, such a man, the god-given privilege he won in the mud of Vietnam and Cambodia, deny him the chance to make a difference? Would you, soldier because it sure sounds like it to me!"

The Private gulped, his throat bobbing like an apple on water. He was a bright boy and he read the unspoken message behind this Captain's words. Jesus; they were Inventory Section – what harm was there in that? The one in the car was obviously nutty as a Snickers Bar and, from what the other Officer was saying, he had become that way by doing his duty to his country.

"I'm not denying you anything, Sir," he began. "It's just you're not on my list and….."

"Well damn well put us on your list! Captain Ulysses Grabham deserves to be on any list in this army!" Face shouted in his best parade ground voice.

The Private hesitated again, one thought foremost in his mind – a Private did not argue with a Captain – not on anything!"

"Yes, Sir!" His decision made, he wrote the names on the bottom of his list and then handed the clip board to the Captain. "If you could just sign this, Sir. Then you can be on your way."

"Very well, Private!" Face agreed and scrawled an appalling signature across the page. "Keep it up, soldier!" he winked conspiritously. "I am so glad we understand each other. You'll go a long way!"

"Yes Sir! Thank you, Sir!"

With another salute Face got back into the car. Murdock was in full Judy Garland mode – those blue birds were definitely flying! Face cast him another withering glance which was duly ignored, nodded to the Private and gunned the engine.

"Well that was easy," he muttered. "Thank you so much for your inimitable contribution, Dorothy!"

Murdock batted his eyes and stroked the imaginary dog that was obviously sitting on his knee. "Any time, Scarecrow," he beamed. "Never forget; I want to find your brain as much as you do!" He then proceeded to finish his song;

"If happy little bluebirds fly
Beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can't I?"

Face snorted. "This is the very last time," he promised himself.

He was still promising himself it ten minutes later as he sat hunched over the computer screen in the base's Supply Office. Murdock, now whistling, was standing by the door watching the goings on on the parade square outside with great interest.

"You got anything?" he asked.

Face snorted glumly. "No," he admitted. "They must have changed the access codes to the personnel system since the last time I hacked in and I've never tried the Navy before – it keeps throwing me out."

"What can we do?"

"Maybe if I …." Face pushed his cap back on his head, revealing the cotton pad still covering his wound, licked his lips, his attention completely taken by the computer in front of him. "OK," he breathed out in triumph.

"You in?"

"Yep – now, Grondyke, where are you?"

Hannibal had come up with this plan after they had discussed what they knew in the motel room the previous night after BA had returned. The big man had smiled broadly at Face who was still laying in bed. Peck had been unable to quell the shiver that ran up his spine; suddenly he felt sick again.

"So, Face," Hannibal began. "What happened?"

Pushing his disquiet away and refusing to look at the positively criminally happy Baracus, Face had taken a deep breath. "I remember Grondyke," he said. "I remember just as I went under he revealed some stuff. God, it's hazy though!"

"What did he say?" Hannibal asked patiently.

"He said I had something of theirs and he wanted it back."

"What?" Murdock asked.

"I don't know. He wouldn't say," Peck closed his eyes, tried to picture the scene and take himself back to the moment, to the OR and Grondyke's cold, despicable eyes shining with conquest. He remembered the fear that shot through him with the realisation of the simple fact that they were putting him under, the drug was in his veins, pumping around his body; in seconds he would be unconscious, completely at their mercy, supremely vulnerable and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

He shuddered again. "Mule," he whispered.

"What?" Hannibal asked.

Face blinked, pulled himself away from the pain of the memory. "He said, 'How does it feel, a member of the famous A Team duped into being our mule?'" Face gulped and looked up, his blue eyes wide with shock and the hint of another deep emotion. "I couldn't have brought drugs in; not in my head, surely!"

"In your head?" Murdock looked dubious. "It's supposed to be in your stomach. Mules swallow them.

"What did he mean then?" Face's shock was quickly overrun by the other emotion – anger.

"Murdock's right, Face," Hannibal said, noting the uncharacteristic flash of fury in his Lieutenant's eye. "You couldn't carry drugs in your head, not enough, surely. And if that was all they wanted to do they would have been better feeding them to you – that way they come out the other end of their own accord. They wouldn't have had to risk picking you up again and having to go through an extraction procedure. But you must have brought something in but why you?"

"My point entirely," Peck said dryly as he fought to maintain his composure.

"They knew you were a member of the Team. They knew who we are – I reckon they probably tipped Decker that you were at the hospital earlier, just in case you didn't bleed to death. They could have chosen anybody to bring in drugs which normally they do – why you?"

"Gee, you make me feel so special, Colonel," Peck muttered.

"It had to be small and light but valuable for them to choose this way," Hannibal mused, sucking on his cigar. "They needed someone in Argentina at the right time and who was coming back to LA. Someone they were pretty sure would make it out but they could keep tabs on at this end." He sighed. "I think we need to talk to our clients, the Watsons, they were the ones that put us on to Rees in the first place."

"Colonel," Murdock puffed out his cheeks anxiously. "I got a real bad feeling about this. You know the Argentina job went real easy – we even remarked on it."

"You don't think the whole thing was a set up?" Face replied. "That would mean they went to a hell of a lot of trouble, for what?"

"To get you," Hannibal stopped. "No, to get one of us – remember they scanned us all, so they didn't know which one of us had it."

"It making me mad, Hannibal!" BA spat and then flashed his teeth at Face. "And I was happy before."

Face shot him a watery grin, anger being replaced by fear.

"They chose Face because he was easy to get alone," Hannibal reasoned. "What was the girl's name again, Face?"

"Oh, she couldn't have been involved, Hannibal, I'm sure!"

"What was her name, Lieutenant?"

"Rosa, but …….."

"She's a lead at least," Hannibal cut across him. "Not that I'm suggesting we go back to Argentina. Well not until we've pursued leads a little closer to home."

"She was teaching me to tango," Face muttered belligerently.

"Can it, kid!" Hannibal shot back. "And next time your interest is aroused by dancing or whatever else, remember this little lesson."

Face opened his mouth to argue but decided his head was throbbing too much and he was better off staying quiet. He shut it again quickly.

"Don't worry, Face," Murdock said sympathetically. "I always thought of you as more of an ass than a mule."

"Your support is so appreciated!" Face snapped back.

"What do we do, Hannibal?" BA asked.

"We need to talk to the Watsons and see how much they know about this. It seems to me too much of a coincidence that they didn't know at least some of what was going on. I'm sure you can persuade them to talk, BA." Hannibal stood up. "Lets get some sleep – I got a feeling that this is going to get hairy before it gets better."

"There is another option, Colonel," Face offered. Three sets of eyes turned to regard him. "They got what they want; we could just leave it alone."

"Face!" Hannibal shook his head in disappointment. "Tell me how did you feel just now when you realised what had been done to you?"

Peck gulped. "Pretty stupid and then angry," he revealed.

Hannibal nodded. "And you are really proposing we let these scum bags get away with making you feel like that?"

"I guess not," Face hesitated. "I just think this is bigger than you think."

"Why?" Hannibal turned back to regard the younger man.

"Because I just remembered something else."

Hannibal smiled. "Care to share it with us, kid?"

"Just as I went under, I reached out, ripped away Grondyke's sleeve, it was a tacky suit anyway, but I saw his arm beneath." Peck licked his lips.

"And?" the Colonel prompted.

"He had a tattoo."

"Lots of people got a tattoo," BA growled.

"Not like this; I recognised it. I've seen one before."

"What was it?" Smith asked.

"It was a tattoo of the SEAL Trident, like the one Jackson had in Nam."

"Grondyke was a Navy SEAL?" Murdock asked.

"At some point, at least his arm was," Face responded bleakly.

Hannibal's eyes twinkled. "If he was in the service they'll be records," he pronounced smugly.

"Oh, come on Hannibal!" Face whined. "He will have changed his name, surely."

"It's a long shot," Murdock agreed.

"But that's the sort of shot I like!" Hannibal smirked. "Tomorrow, while BA and I look up the wayward Watsons, you two can pop down to Fort Ingram and have a nose through the personnel computer – see what comes up! We might have to look into Navy SEALs too – never liked them myself; smelt of fish!"

"Oh joy!" Face sighed.

"Cheer up Facey," Murdock chuckled. "We can look for your brain while we're there."

And that was why Face found himself in uniform again, hacking into the Pentagon Personnel Records System through a computer in Fort Ingram looking at the personnel records of NAVY Seals. "Nothing!" he groaned. "I tried Grondyke, Blondyke, Klondyke; every sort of variation and nothing comes up. He's obviously changed his name."

"Well at least we tried," Murdock said. He stiffened a little as he stared out at the parade ground. "It's looking like we may have outstayed our welcome, anyway."

Peck looked up. "What?"

"Looks like a Two Star General, no less, is coming to investigate just who is doing this inventory survey."

"Two Star General? Either we're getting important Murdock or there's not enough for the army to do these days!" He turned his attention back to the computer screen. "I wonder, it's a long shot but ……" he mused and then typed in another name. "Bingo!" he breathed.

"What you got?"

"Tell you later," Peck was busily scanning through page after page of information, he hit the print button and then began to close down the screens in front of him. "Where's the printer?" he asked.

"They're coming," Murdock said. "Guess we better go through the back door on this occasion."

Face nodded as he found the printer, grabbed the papers coming out of it and stuffed them into his pocket.

The door closed behind them just as General Malcolm Maddaford opened the front one. He was a blustery old man who believed he ran a tight ship but did not much like to be woken from his pre-retirement slumber by any undue action at his base. He had been alerted by a call from the Pentagon no less, informing him that one of the computers on his base was accessing classified information. Computers were completely alien to the aging General and 'hacking' was a word he was not familiar with but he got the concept by the time the rather intolerant Pentagon IT expert explained it to him for the fifth time. Once he finally understood about the cuckoo in his nest, he determined to sort it out and discipline the culprits himself. So taking his long suffering XO with him and thirty men he lead a courageous mission to the Supply Office.

"Just what the hell ……" he began but stopped as the message finally got from his eyes to his doddery brain that there was no one in the office for him to string up! "Damn!" he snorted.

"The back door, Sir!" his XO exclaimed.

Damn man is too quick for his own good, Maddaford thought, not for the first time. "I know, I know," he muttered. "Get after them and radio for back up! These mongrels won't get off my base!"

Murdock and Face found themselves in a large warehouse which was apparently where the transport trucks were housed. Long lines of green two and a half toners stretched out before them in perfect precision as if they had blundered into some anally retentive giant's toy box. They could hear the General blundering about in the office.

"Do you think there's a back door to this place?" Murdock asked.

"Got to be," Face reasoned. "Or how do they get the trucks in and out? Crane?"

"Good point, Faceman!" Murdock looked impressed. "Maybe you don't need a brain after all."

"At this point I think the speed of a sprinter would serve me better. Come on!"

He began to weave his way between the silent waiting trucks.

"And the stamina of a marathon runner," Murdock added before following quickly behind his friend.

Face skidded to a stop as they reached the back wall and saw the pad-locked door. "No problem," he breathed as he reached for his lock picks.

"Quicker than last time please, Face," Murdock requested, glancing anxiously over his shoulder.

The lock clicked open. "Give me a challenge," Face breathed nonchalantly. He pulled up the roll door as he stood and a shaft of brilliant sunlight arced through the dim warehouse.

"How about hot-wiring a truck?" Murdock suggested.

Face nodded and leapt into the nearest one as the pilot ran round to the other side door. Peck bent down and ripped off the covering of the steering column and then, pulling out the wires, began to fiddle.

"Hey you!" A voice came from their left. "Get out of the truck!"

"Tut tut," Murdock pouted. "Manners cost nothing and the 'p' word isn't in sight!"

Face growled but his grimace brightened to a smile as the truck engine roared into life. "Definitely not refined enough to be worth our attention. Shall we go?"

"You know, Templeton," Murdock's best upper crust English voice was suddenly to the fore. "Your skills have no bounds do they – hacking into computer systems, hot wiring trucks, picking locks; you really are the most artistic and charming rascal I know. Yes, let's go – tally ho!" His face took on a severely serene aspect. "After all, we really are not in Kansas any more, are we?"

Face slammed the truck into gear. "Don't start!" he warned. Then they were off and running. The clatter of bullets rattled on the outside of the truck as they moved away.

"We got company," Murdock said as they lurched out on to the main camp road and behind them a number of assorted jeeps and cars came into view.

"Not Decker, is it?" Face asked squinting in his rear view mirror.

"No, just a few soldier boys upset 'cause you pinched their truck, I think."

"Can't trust anybody these days!" Face grinned. "Those Captains from Inventory are definitely the worst!"

"Ain't they just!"

"Oh no!" Face said in sudden alarm.

"What's wrong, buddy?"

"Would you believe those distrustful swine store their trucks with only enough gas to get about… here!"

"No!" Murdock said, just as the engine coughed and spluttered and the truck came to a jittering but final stop.

Face banged the steering wheel in frustration. "I guess that screws the getaway plan somewhat," he groaned.

"Get out of the truck with your hands up!"

"And still no 'p' word!" Murdock protested. "What are we teaching our soldiers these days?"

Wearily they both opened their doors and climbed down to the ground, where they were instantly surrounded by a circle of excited action-starved soldiers, all with their guns ready.

"You are making a terrible mistake!" Face began out checking that none of the soldiers were ranked above Corporal and deciding that he still might be able to talk his way out of this one.

"Hands up!" The nearest one shouted.

Any hopes of escape were quickly squashed as General Maddaford was driven up. "Good work!" he extolled as he tried to negotiate the delicate manoeuvre of easing his amble bulk out of the confines of the jeep. "Now, what have we caught?" He cast a jaundiced eye over the prisoners.

At that point there was a screech of brakes and a familiar black van screamed over the skyline with an M60 blazing. The soldiers scattered and the General let out a most unmilitary shriek.

Face and Murdock took advantage of the distraction by diving in opposite directions and running. Murdock hit lucky in that he chose the road and BA rolled the van to a stop just long enough for the pilot to leap aboard.

"Where's Face?" Hannibal asked from behind the M60.

"He went across country, Colonel!" Murdock said nodding his head towards the cornfield that Peck had disappeared into.

The soldiers were rather belatedly becoming aware of the situation and some were even climbing to their feet.

"OK, BA," Hannibal ordered. "Double back around the field. We'll pick Face up at the other side and that way the soldier boys will chase us, not him, hopefully."

BA gunned the motor and the van lurched off back down the road. A couple of soldiers had enough about them to jump into their jeeps and follow. Some turned and ran into the corn field. General Maddaford was still lying on his back, his limbs waving uselessly; he was unable to right himself; rather like a rotund and massive beetle.

Face was running hard through the rows of corn. Breathing heavily, his head wound was beginning to throb and his legs were getting increasingly wobbly. He was beginning to doubt he could keep this up for any great length of time.

However, the maize in front of him suddenly fell away and he lurched to a stop, tottering on the edge of a manmade irrigation reservoir that stretched before him. He turned left, then right, gasping in air, knowing he was critically exposed. Over the top of the corn he could see the top of the van as it circled around the field. Behind him he could hear the shouts of the soldiers as they got nearer. Gulping in more lungfuls he began to run along the wooden edge of the reservoir on a course that would take him to the patch of waste ground between the road and the water.

Behind him there was a louder shout. He glanced over his shoulder to see a figure emerge from the maize. He forced himself to run faster and was further inspired when the tell-tale whoosh of a bullet sped past his ear.

The van had stopped and he could hear gunfire in front as well as behind as the Team covered him. He finally reached the end of the wooden walkway and stopped looking down at a larger drop than he had anticipated. He wobbled on the lip above the drop and glanced anxiously about himself, his eyes falling on a hay stack that had been heaped up beside the wall just to his left. He knew he had to move, so drawing in a resigned breath, he leapt into the relatively soft landing.

As the bullets flew over his head, Face wearily pulled himself out of the hay and made a run for the van. Murdock reached out and pulled him in as the door slid shut behind him and they were off again.

Face lay on the van floor gulping and wheezing.

"I think you've gone soft, Lieutenant," Hannibal said. "A little run like that should be easy for you!"

"I ……." Face started but stopped as he realised he had neither the energy nor the breath to argue.

"Oh, Colonel, I think he did really well," Murdock argued. He sat down beside Face and looked at him with the glint of admiration in his eye.

Peck managed to pull himself up and looked down at himself dishevelled and rumpled from the run and covered in….

"Straw," Murdock mused as he reached out to pick a stalk from Face's hair. "It's a good look for you, Face," he beamed mischievously. "It reminds me of……."

"Don't say it!" Face managed to get out, staring aggressively at the pilot.

Of course Murdock ignored him entirely. "A scarecrow!" he said.

BA let out one of his high pitched giggles and Hannibal smirked around his cigar in the front.

Face sighed but apart from that remained uncharacteristically subdued, shaking his head somewhat philosophically as he started on the long task of pulling all the straw from his uniform.

"You really jumped head first into that one, Face!" Hannibal guffawed.

TBC