"That's where Murdock said they were following Prescott's car," Hannibal stated to Face as they both drove down the mountain road. "That was our last contact." He tried reaching the boys on the car radio. "Still nothing."
"No sign of the van anywhere. I have this terrible hunch, Hannibal."
"Yeah...you and me both," Hannibal answered, then pondered his options. "Stop the car."
"What for?" Puzzled, Face followed instructions.
"If they got our guys, that means they were close to the lair. If that's the case, than this road must be in their crosshairs knowing that we'd be looking for them, ergo we're driving right into a trap. So we need a contingency plan."
"I thought you had that one figured out when we left the Evans' house."
"I'm open to suggestions."
"Why don't we leave the car down the road, grab the artillery and continue on foot. We'll be less conspicuous and we could take them by surprise."
"Too risky... for us, Murdock, B.A. and especially the little girl. No doubt Prescott has man power posted all around and they'll spot us. We need backup."
"And a plan," Face quipped before putting the car in reverse to double back in the field.
"Wait!" Hannibal exclaimed, grabbing Face's arm to stop him from turning the steering wheel.
"What is it?"
"I thought I saw something down there," he said motioning to the slope.
"What shape?"
"It was moving," Hannibal described as he squinted against the sun rays that distorted the image of a moving figure climbing up the hill. "My God!"
"Hannibal, what is it?" Face asked in a fluster.
"It's B.A.. He's climbing up the hill." No sooner had Hannibal finished his sentence that he was seen hoping out of the car and dashing to the aid of his friend.
"Careful, Hannibal. Could be an ambush," Face warned, scanning the surrounding area for any suspicious character lurking in the bushes.
"He's hurt," Hannibal observed upon noticing the sling.
"I don't see Murdock."
"He's seen us." Hannibal waved back at B.A to establish contact before meeting him halfway down the slope, with Face in tow.
"B.A. thank God man, you're alright," Hannibal enthused, his excitement running high until he realized they were missing one member. "Where's Murdock?"
Worn to a frazzle, B.A. clawed at Hannibal's arm for physical support and stole a few seconds to catch his wind.
"I left him down there. He can't move. His legs..." his speech faltered as he sucked in another breath, "his legs are pinned underneath the van. We crashed. Both tires blew up, which ain't no coincidence."
"Someone shot at you?"
B.A. nodded, still gasping for air. "I tried to lift the van off him but I couldn't do it alone."
"OK, show us where he is." Hannibal and Face each clasped B.A. by the waist and assisted him down the slope.
Meanwhile back at the Evans house, the patriarch stole down to the wine cellar, briefcase in hand, while the women were catching a few winks. There, he pulled at one wine rack and squeezed himself behind it. He disappeared into a narrow tunnel where he unlocked a secret compartment hewed in the rock wall, in which was stashed half a million dollars in small bills. He reached in to take out fifty thousand that he placed inside the briefcase.
Back upstairs, he padded into the bedroom to iron out the last details of his plan to pry his daughter from Prescott's claws once and for all.
"What do you think you're doing?" Amy seethed standing by the door, startling the conspirator with his hand in the money pit.
"I'm going to deliver the ransom. Time is running out," he stated firmly. "It's obvious Colonel Smith's plan backfired. I'm sorry if your friends got caught, but I'm not about to risk Meghan's life."
"What makes you think Prescott won't have you both killed once he has the money?"
"He won't," he replied unconvincingly.
"Hannibal wasn't sure about that."
"What do you want me to do, heh?" He lashed out at Amy, taking her aback. "Smith's worried about your men missing and probably dead. It's obvious his mind's on things other than my daughter's welfare and I don't blame him. I'd feel the same if I were in his place."
"He should be back shortly."
"I doubt that, Miss Allen. Look... I know you're trying to help and I appreciate it. Truly I do, but this game has gone on too long and it's time to settle the score once and for all."
"You're risking an awful lot by this taking this into your own hands. Colonel Smith has experience dealing with scum bags with the likes of Prescott. In any event, I assure you he won't let you down, even with wounded men in our mist, the case may be."
"And when were you planning on telling me about this?" Mary asked on an accusatory tone as she stole into the room. "Where does all that money come from? You wouldn't be laundering money for Prescott?"
"Of course not" he firmly denied,
"You have dealing with him, don't you? They went sour and then..."
"For goodness sake, woman!" he flared up, offended by the unfounded accusation. "You're insane! I wouldn't be caught dead associating with a rat's ass like Prescott. Incidentally he did ask me to be his right-hand man and I turned him down flat. Yes, maybe that's why he took Meghan; to coerce me into reconsidering my decision."
"Why you, Greg?" she exhorted.
"I don't know, Mary."
"Oh I think you do," she sassed back.
"All right, stop it you too!" Amy barged in to subdue the escalating tension. "Fighting amongst yourselves isn't going to help Meghan. Now we need to stay focus and stick to the original plan." Amy stepped up to a restless Greg and implored, "Please Mister Evans. Let's wait for Hannibal to return. We still have until five o'clock to deliver the money."
Murdock was nearing the end of his physical tether but despite a peaceful darkness that beckoned him to surrender, he goaded himself awake with his singing and reminiscence of past events involving him and B.A.. "Big Guy will kill me if I give up now," he chastised between laboured breaths. "Come on, Muchacho, you can do it. I'm sure B.A.'s found Hannibal by now." He closed his leaden eyes and licked his parched lips. He then slanted his head to the right to gaze eagerly at the thermos lying on the ground a few inches away. Slowly he extended his arm and wiggled his fingers, feeling the supply of relief within his grasp. A searing twinge caused him to retreat his arm in favour of his burning chest that he rubbed to deaden the pain. "Come on, Murdock, you were in worse shape during the war. This is nothing, fella!"
Minutes slipped away with Murdock keeping himself entertained to maintain awareness, albeit dim it was. He risked another swing at the thermos but his racked body precluded any physical strain whatsoever. However, his stubbornness was no match for the eerie sense of doom that slyly crept over, impelling him to resign to his fate. "Damn you!" he cursed at his body that he sensed was beginning to betray him against his better will. "I promise B.A. not to pull the curtain down. Can't go back on my word, come on! The show must go on." he mumbled feebly. He drew in a deep breath that triggered a racking cough. "Damned, that hurt!"
The coughing fit drained the last speck of energy that he had left. Sheen of perspiration was now covering his face. Fever has set in. Weak as a kitten and hurting all over, Murdock reluctantly allowed his leaden eyelids to close, but fought the urge to surrender to an alluring peaceful slumber. "Maybe if I just rest my eyes for a while I'll be ok," he drawled, fooling himself that it would do the trick. Regrettably, he was out like a light the second his eyes closed.
"He's down there!" B.A. indicated to his team members who followed his lead.
"I see him," Face stated, squinting to focus on the scene below. "He doesn't seem to be moving."
"He gave me his word that he wouldn't fall sleep. He'd better not be asleep or I'll kill him!" B.A. growled, striving to keep a brave front and yet, Face and Hannibal clearly detected a timbre of fear in that gruff voice.
They finally reach their destination with B.A. diving to his knees beside his listless friend.
"I told him to stay awake," BA seethed, dreading that Murdock had given up the ghost.