THE MULE KICKS BACK

Part Seven:

A Debt to Pay

Hannibal and BA took Murdock back to the VA. The pilot was unnaturally subdued as he sat in the back of the van worrying at the grubby bandage on his hand.

"You OK, Murdock?" Hannibal asked as they drew close to the hospital.

"Uh–huh," Murdock responded dully.

"You ain't acting like it, fool!" BA observed.

Murdock pouted but otherwise refused to be drawn by the big man's comment. This, more than anything else, caused Hannibal to turn around in his seat and regard the pilot critically.

"Do you want to talk about it, Captain?" he asked gently.

Murdock shrugged and looked away.

"Is it something to do with Face?" Hannibal refused to be put off.

Murdock nodded thoughtfully. "I just…. I think … I know he's only doing what he always does but Chrissie seems kind of different – not like one of his other… eh ladies."

BA cast a surprised glance towards Hannibal who smiled. "I don't think you should worry on Chrissie's account," he disclosed.

Murdock perked up a little. "Why do you say that, Colonel?" he asked.

"Chrissie and I had a long talk on the way up to see Nurse Morrow. She's not as naïve as she was making out – I think she uses it as a protection mechanism. She certainly wasn't taken in by our Lieutenant and his little performance."

Murdock looked surprised. "So, why is she going out with him, then?"

Hannibal shrugged. "She said something like; a guy like Face doesn't ask a girl like her out very often."

"Do you think she for real?" BA asked.

Hannibal nodded. "I reckon."

"What about Face?"

Hannibal guffawed. "He is certainly not for real! What about him, Captain?"

"Well, he thinks, she thinks he's the bravest man in the world!"

"Kind of hard to believe, even for him?" Smith beamed. "Exciting though isn't it?"

BA chuckled. "Who conning who?" he asked as he drew the van up outside the VA.

Murdock shook his head but his eyes were twinkling with mischief. "Poor Faceyman," he said. "Out there all alone, without his brain and at the mercy of a woman!"

"He's a big boy, Captain," Hannibal smiled. "I think he'll cope with the shock. You OK now?"

Murdock nodded. "Better, Colonel." He slid the van door open and jumped out. "I'll see you soon."

"You can count on it, Captain. We'll send Face to get you – if he survives his night out!"

Murdock smiled. "She's a nice girl that Chrissie," he mused dreamily.

"That she is, HM," Hannibal agreed.

"Maybe ….. maybe …" Murdock stopped and looked into the Colonel's intent eyes. "Good night, Hannibal," he said and quickly disappeared into the gathering gloom.

Hannibal sighed. "Maybe, Captain," he muttered.

"We got half an hour before the game starts, sucker," BA said. "You want pizza or a burger?"

"Whatever, BA," Hannibal replied.

BA spent the evening watching the game, while the Colonel got engrossed in his newspaper and the hours passed pleasantly enough. However, as the clock worked its way around to midnight both men began to glance at it anxiously.

Eventually BA growled. "Fool said he'd ring."

Hannibal looked up from the paper. "He's got five more minutes," he responded.

BA shook his head. "He pushing it!" He stood up and began to stomp impatiently around the room.

"Easy BA," Hannibal cautioned. "You know as well as I, he'll push it as far as he can just to make the point."

But at midnight and still no contact the Colonel stood up with an angry snort. He phoned Face's car phone but there was no answer. "Where did he say they were going?" he asked the smouldering heap of anthracite behind him.

"Some place on Lincoln," BA responded.

"Wouldn't hurt to take a swing by there. Remind our forgetful Lieutenant of his promise, would it?"

"I'm gonna break his arrogant butt," BA promised.

They pulled up into the almost deserted parking lot only minutes later. Face's Corvette was parked in his normal cavalier fashion close to the door.

"He still here then!" BA pronounced as he drew up along side. He climbed out of the van and began cracking his knuckles aggressively.

They were met at the door by the elongated, grey figure of Andre, the Maitre d' who looked them up and down a bit and then shook his head. "Gentlemen, we are closed for the evening," he said in his best funeral voice.

BA growled. "Don't want your jibber jabber food!" he spat, pushing past the askance man.

Andre recoiled before him like a willow tree in a strong wind, unwilling to stand firm but also not able to move away.

Hannibal smiled brightly. "We're here to pick up a friend," he said.

"I am certain you will find that none of your friends can be numbered amongst our clientele," Andre snapped back stuffily.

"Well, that's just where you're wrong, pal!" Hannibal countered. "I can see one of them right now!"

BA was already moving to the one remaining occupied table where Chrissie was still sitting, her back to the door.

Andre let out a long, fraught sigh. "Ah, Mr Peck," he muttered in exasperation. "I should have known!" He stepped aside for Hannibal to follow BA. "If you can locate the whereabouts of the disappearing man, I would be most grateful. He seems to have forgotten about the check and the poor dear he has left here obviously has no means of paying it. I would consider that she does the washing up but frankly I wouldn't let her anywhere near my kitchen!"

Chrissie looked up as BA came into her line of vision. "Oh thank god!" she exclaimed in relief.

Hannibal pulled a chair up beside her. He lit his cigar slowly. "So, young lady, you want to tell us what's going on?" he asked around it.

Chrissie hesitated, considered her strategy but then the anger that had been festering inside her all evening, fuelled by frustration and embarrassment welled out of her like lava from a volcano, in a long stream of slurred words. "Me? Tell you what's going on? How should I know? I've been sitting here like a lemon for the last hour waiting for Templeton. I am so embarrassed, I don't know what….." She stopped, unable to continue because she had used up all of her breath.

Hannibal sighed and looked around the table. He noted the two plates of food – the one in front of Chrissie half eaten and the other completely untouched. There was an empty bottle of champagne in the stand beside the table and two empty glasses. He looked up at Chrissie again and he saw that tears were now flowing freely down her cheeks and he suspected that they had a rather high alcohol content.

"So where is our wayward Lieutenant?" he asked.

Chrissie snorted. "He went to the bath room over an hour ago!"

Hannibal rolled his eyes. "Either he's having difficulty passing that tracker we made him swallow the other day or…." He let the thought hang unfinished and looked at Chrissie, critically appraising her. "You didn't mention words like 'relationship', 'commitment' and 'responsibility' to him did you? That normally sends him running for the hills!"

Chrissie shook her head. "It's not funny!" She leaned forwards and spread her hands out to indicate the food before her. "Have you seen the prices in this place? There's no way I can pay for all this!"

BA grunted. "He hasn't touched it, Hannibal. No way Faceman would leave all this food – you know he got a thing about waste after his childhood and Nam!"

The Colonel nodded. "He drank all his champagne though!"

Chrissie wriggled guiltily on her chair at his point and Hannibal's eyes came to land on her quizzically. She hiccupped surreptitiously before saying, "What else was I supposed to do? I've been sitting here on my own all night!"

Hannibal smiled and shook his head, then he turned back to the problem at hand. "You're right BA. Face would finish his oysters before anything else! This is serious! Guess we better check the bath room."

"What about me?" Chrissie asked, aware that her voice was degenerating into a desperate wail.

Hannibal smiled. "Don't worry, Chrissie. We'll sort this whole mess out. I'll take the money out of Face's wages. Now stay here while we check things out."

BA was already making his way across the room, ignoring the scornful stare that was stamped across Andre's sneering face. Hannibal joined him and they made a quick but thorough sweep of the area.

"Come on, kid," Hannibal muttered. "Give us something to go on!"

"Hannibal!" BA was bent and peering under the sinks. He reached out and his bejewelled hand came back with a cheap, plastic wallet.

"No class," Hannibal pronounced as he took it. "Well, what a coincidence," he murmured as he peered inside. "Cuthbert Grondyke!"

BA growled. "Not again!" he snorted. "Why this time?"

Hannibal sighed, sending a silent prayer of thanks that his Lieutenant was gifted enough operator to be able to get this message to them. "Two possibilities – either they didn't get what they wanted the first time or they think Face knows too much so they want to eliminate him from the game. Either way, it don't look to good for the kid!"

"Plan, Hannibal?"

"Luckily Face came through good," Hannibal replied. "There's an address on Grondyke's license. It's a start any way!"

"We get Murdock?" BA asked as they moved out of the bath room.

"No, not enough time. I got a feeling our Lieutenant is gonna need us pretty soon and we've already given them at least an hour's head start. Though Face can talk his way out of most things I think even he is gonna be hard pressed to find enough material in this case."

"And the girl – is she involved?"

"No, she's clean. Why would she wait here for us to come get her? She'd have been long gone. Let's pay the check and get her home. Then we go after Grondyke – he is really starting to annoy me!"

It had been a tense drive through town. Grondyke was sitting up front with the driver and two goons were in the back sandwiching Face between them.

Face had done his best to lighten the atmosphere, remarking that it was so much nicer to be allowed on a seat instead of being transported in the trunk but no body had expressed an opinion except him.

His next target had been the omnipresent sun glasses sported by the two goons. "Hey guys, it's almost midnight. You can come out from behind your shades now surely – it's damn dark outside!"

The goons had remained silently impassive.

"Nice place," Peck had breathed as the car entered the parking lot of one of the new apartment blocks on the south side. He was working hard at appearing cool and confident while inside he was praying that there had been something in the wallet that would lead Hannibal to this place. Face could tell from the oppressive tension in the air and the tight tautness of Grondyke's body as he sat, coiled like a spring on the front seat, his eyes flashing frantically that there wasn't very much time for him to extricate himself from this mess.

They saw no one else in the complex as they made their way up to the fifteenth floor. Once inside Peck was roughly pushed through to the living area and forced to sit. His hands were cuffed together and forced painfully behind the back of the chair.

"So," he began arrogantly. "Here we are again."

Grondyke stood by the door, sweating profusely. "Not for long," he muttered.

"Oh and I was so enjoying your company, Cuthbert!" Peck beamed.

Grondyke scowled moving closer and bringing with him the acrid smell of body odour. "Where is it?" he demanded.

"Oh goody!" Face said. "I love quizzes!"

"Where is it?" Grondyke repeated menacingly.

Face screwed up his features and took in a deep breath as if considering deeply. "No," he said finally with a long sigh, shaking his head in defeat. "You're gonna have to give me a clue!"

The fist to his jaw was hard and knocked the breath out of Peck in a noisy whoosh. He could taste blood in his mouth.

"You think you're really smart," Grondyke hissed. "You are everything I despise in this weak, pathetic nation!"

Face clenched his stomach muscles, fought down his pain and made his smile even wider. "Oh gee," he managed through gritted teeth. "And I thought you were pursuing me cos you wanted to be my friend!"

Grondyke shook his head. "There is no possible way that someone like me would ever be associated with an asshole like you!"

Face pouted, the pain in his jaw fading. "You know that's kind of hurtful cos I don't think I'm that bad. Sure, I have some habits which could be perceived as being suspect but generally…" A further blow, this time slapping across his face and rocking his head back painfully, stopped his voice.

"I haven't got much time, smart ass," Grondyke continued, clutching hold of a handful of Face's hair and pulling his head back until their eyes met. "And even if I had I would not waste it listening to your mindless prattle. You are trained Special Forces, I know, but I also know that every man, and particularly a pretty boy like you, has his limits. My skill is in finding that weakness quickly and exploiting it."

Face groaned as Grondyke wrenched his head forward, but he was smiling when he looked up. "Well, between you and me, maybe a little tip you should consider, is letting me know just what you are talking about and what you want from me because I fail to see how I'm supposed to answer your questions when I have no idea what it is that you are referring to."

Grondyke's eyes narrowed. "That is interesting because if you don't know anything, I might as well just kill you now!"

Face gulped, let out a nervous giggle. "Cuthbert, that's really not very motivating for me to tell you either way, now is it?"

Grondyke smiled slipperily. "You're bluffing. I read your file. I know it's the only thing you can do with any hint of competency – lie, cheat and steal – America's con man. You have no idea of anything about this and that being the case, I have no reason to keep you alive."

He moved away, stepping towards the door.

"Of course that's the logical, jealous reaction I'd expect from a SEAL," Face said complacently although inside he was desperately searching for anything that would prolong the conversation and give him the time he needed. "You guys always overlook the subtleties of the situation, don't you?"

Grondyke turned back. "Coming from a Green Beret!" he mocked. "You wouldn't know subtlety if it jumped up and poked you in the eye!"

Face chuckled and arrogantly held Grondyke's stare. "But how do you know, Cuthbert?" he asked.

"So you know I was a SEAL," the other man began, his composure slightly ruffled. "That means nothing. You're gonna have to come up with lot more than that, pretty boy, to keep me interested."

"Make me!" Face challenged.

Grondyke hesitated, eying the other man for a long minute and then he smiled evilly. "You'd like that wouldn't you. A beating would buy you the time you need. Give your little pals in the A Team chance to show up and rescue you. Well, it's not gonna happen. You have nothing and you know nothing! You are of absolutely no interest to me."

"You can't be sure of that though Cuthbert, can you? It's a tough call but why bring me here if you were so sure?"

"I had to make sure you knew nothing that you had nothing else to give me, no debts to pay."

"I owe you nothing!" Peck spat back.

"Your smart mouth has proved that!" Grondyke nodded. He looked up at his men. "Take him away and bury him!"

"Now is that anyway to end what could have been a beautiful relationship?" Face could not resist.

Grondyke turned, his eyes flashing with hatred and buried his fist three times into Peck's stomach. Face gasped and sagged in the chair. Grondyke steeped back proudly. "I've been wanting to do that for some time," he disclosed, "Why should you guys have all the fun?"

One of the goons grinned appreciatively at him.

Face groaned pathetically, unable to lift his head, as Grondyke laughed at him. "Never a contender!" he spat spitefully and without another word left the room. The front door of the apartment banged shut soon afterwards.

"Come on," said the first goon. "Let's waste the guy!" He moved forward and took hold of Face's arm trying to pull him up.

Face groaned again, doubled over. "Jesus!" he moaned. "I think he broke something inside!"

The second goon moved in from the other side. "We ain't carrying you, asshole!"

"I can't ….." Face began but never finished. Calculating that he had the goons as off guard as they were ever likely to be, Peck stood up in a rush. He turned left and brought his cuffed hands up to hit the chin of the first goon and then brought his knee up to the privates of the other while spinning out of his reach.

As the two hesitated, more in surprise than from the pain of the actual attack, Face made his move. Lurching left, he ran for the bed room and the glass doors at its end. Praying that he remembered correctly and that this apartment block did have a pool and it was situated to the south of the building, the direction that his in-built compass was telling him the doors faced. He threw himself through the doors. He stumbled out onto the balcony, ignoring the falling glass and then he hesitated on the balcony.

The two goons were right behind him.

"Here goes nothing!" he screamed as he leapt into the yawing abyss over the balcony edge. Spinning in the air, he thrust his arms out before him and executed a, by no means, bad dive into the swimming pool which thankfully was below!

He came up for air, choking and blinking the water from out his eyes. The shock of the cold water, not to mention the fall caused him to hesitate for a second as he tried to find his bearings. The splash of a bullet hitting the water not too far away focused his mind, if not his eyes, and he stumbled forwards.

He became aware of a figure at the side of the pool and gratefully accepted the hand that was proffered to him. But he stopped as the shock thundered through him when a familiar voice said, "Would you like another tango lesson, Senor Peck?"

He looked, blinking furiously trying to make out the beautiful features of the figure that leaned over him.

"Rosa?" he exclaimed in stunned realisation.

TBC