BA: The Vanishing Van

After Stockwell left, I backed the van into the garage so I could keep working. It was getting dark outside, and the air was getting cold. Might have to put a jacket on, but I could wait a little longer. Chicago was a lot colder than this. Momma said it was in the 20s last week. Hope her apartment was warm enough. I'd check the insulation of the windows, maybe caulk the sides.

I knelt down next to the van's right front tire and unscrewed the valve stem cap. Good thing we weren't going on Stockwell's fool mission. Face was getting better, and Hannibal wouldn't need me to stick around much longer. If I left Wednesday morning, I could drive all day and be there for Thursday at least. As long as I had two days, didn't matter what happened after that.

The door shut, and somebody walked over. I didn't look up.

"Hey, whatcha doin'?" It was Frankie. I put the pressure gauge in the tire and let him answer his own question.

"I see you're wearing my Christmas present," he said. He had given me a gold chain with what he said was a scarab beetle hanging on it.

"Don't have much choice since you burned most of my gold," I said.

"Uh-uh, you were the one who burned your own gold because you didn't follow directions. But being the generous soul that I am, I decided to make it up to you. Even though it wasn't my fault in the first place. So anyway . . . why are you still working out here?"

Tire pressure was good. I got up to check the left front tire.

"If we're not going on the mission, then you don't have to get the van ready, right?" said Frankie.

I shook my head. "Gotta keep it in good shape." Seven hundred miles was a long drive. Didn't have extra time for breaking down.

"Look, I know you like to take care of your van, but this is overkill. You've been working out here all day for the past three days. What's left to do?"

I let a little air into the tire. "Man, why you gotta ask so many questions? You worse than Murdock."

I got up to go to the next tire, but Frankie stood in front of me. "Lemme tell you something," he said, touching my chest with his finger. "I've had my eye on you, and I think there's something you're not telling me."

Now Frankie was trying to get involved in my business. Just what I needed. That guy got a big mouth, and if he found out, everyone would know.

"What I ain't tellin' you is you in my way. Move, sucker."

Frankie backed away with his hands up. "Okay, okay. If you don't wanna talk about it, we don't have to. But if you ever want someone to listen, give some advice, maybe give you a hand—" he pointed at himself "— I'm right here."

When Frankie came on our first mission for Stockwell, I thought he was just a big talker who didn't know nothing. Then he and Murdock saved our lives. Turned out he wasn't so bad after all.

"What you want, man?" I said.

Frankie came closer and lowered his voice. "This ship is sinkin', man! If we lose our pardons, we got nothing. I just wanna make sure we're on the same team."

"Sure we are. We on the A-Team."

He shook his head. "No. You're on the A-Team. I just tag along for the ride. And if we don't get our pardons and you leave—"

"What you talkin' about? I never said I was leavin'!"

Frankie laughed. "Come on, it's obvious, man. You've been working like crazy on the van for the past three days, not to mention disappearing several times over the last couple weeks."

"I been gettin' groceries!" I argued. The man saw more than I thought.

"Nobody buys a quart of milk every few days when they could buy a couple gallons once to last a week, especially you." He crossed his arms. "If I had to guess, I'd say you're using grocery shopping as a cover for whatever it is you're actually doing. But that's just a guess."

No doubt about it, I was caught. If I didn't tell him what was going on, he might tell Hannibal, and then I'd really be in trouble.

"Okay, you're right. If I tell you what I'm doing, you promise not to tell anybody?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Frankie grinned.

"You better hope to die if you tell. Now, I been goin' out and talkin' to my momma on the pay phone since I don't want Stockwell to hear everything we say. She ain't doing too good. Had pneumonia. I'm gonna go see her and make sure she all right."

"You're gonna drive all the way to Chicago without telling anybody?"

I shook my head. "They got enough to worry about. 'Sides, if they don't know where I am, they can't tell Stockwell."

"Yeah, and what about Stockwell? He won't be too happy you tried to escape. He'll send his men after you to bring you back, and then bad things could happen."

"As long as I get a day with my momma, it don't matter what he do."

Frankie shifted on his feet. "I don't know, BA. You sure you don't wanna run this by Johnny first?"

"I told you, Hannibal got enough to worry about lookin' after Face. And he'd probably try to stop me, so you better not tell him either."

"I won't. But you do know Stockwell's gonna think we all know where you went, right? What if he starts threatening us? With Face like he is, we can't just pack up and go on the run, especially if you have the van."

I hadn't thought about that. Maybe there was a few bugs to work out of this plan. "I don't know, Frankie. But I gotta make sure Momma's all right."

"Can you at least think about it before you leave? I don't wanna be left high and dry, and I bet the other guys would say the same if they knew what you were planning."

He had a point. "Okay, I will. But in the mean time, how about you help me with gettin' the van ready?"

Frankie smiled. "Sure thing, my friend. I told you I'm here to help."

"Good. Go get me some water and baking soda. We're gonna clean the battery terminals."