"Mister Baracus suffers from a broken arm and a few bruises and gashes. Nothing that won't heal in a couple of weeks. He didn't sustain any head concussion nor does he have internal bleeding. That's the good news. We were however concerned over some tenderness near the liver but upon further examination, it turned out to be a nasty bruise. Nevertheless we'd like to keep him for overnight observation."
"Understood."
"He might be mighty sore for a while but he should count his blessings that he wasn't more grievously wounded as Mister Murdock was."
Doom gleaned over Hannibal's face. "What is it?" he choked.
"We're wheeling him into surgery to try to stem the haemorrhage in his abdomen. Hopefully we're not too late. As for his legs, they were badly crushed in the accident. There appears to be extensive tissue and nerve damage and the swelling in his lower back is undoubtedly causing the paralysis. We'll know the breath of the injuries once we go in. I can't lie to you it looks bad. We might even have to amputate."
"Oh no, not that!" Face jumped in.
"We might not have a choice if it means saving his life. Therefore we need consent from a kin."
"He doesn't have any."
"No parents, siblings, relatives...?"
"We're his only family, doc."
"Then I'll need one of you to sign the release form."
Panicked, Face stared pleadingly at Hannibal and exhorted, "We can't authorize that!"
"You heard the doctor, if they don't amputate, he'll die."
"He'll die anyway if you cut off his legs," Face stressed.
"Mister..."
"Peck."
"Mister Peck, rest assured that we will do our utmost to save the legs. It's only in the event that there's no remote possibility of restoring blood flow that they'll need to go."
"Give me the form," Hannibal said resolutely. The doctor handed him the folder and Hannibal sighed on the dotted line. "There you go! You save those legs, you hear?"
"We'll do everything humanly possible, I assure you."
"I know you will, doctor. Thanks."
"Can we go see our other friend?" Face asked.
"Sure, but he might not be very talkative. We administered him a sedative to make him rest."
"We won't disturb him."
"Room 202, down the hall to your left."
"Thank you."
"I'll call Amy with the news."
"I'll go see B.A.," Face said, receiving a nod in return.
Face left for B.A.'s room as Hannibal walked to a pay phone and dialled in the Evans' phone number.
The ring startled Mary who sprung to her feet. She stood motionless at the grip of powerful emotions for five seconds before stepping over to the phone. "Hello."
"Mrs Evans? It's Hannibal Smith. Can I speak to Amy?"
"I'm so...sorry she...she's not here at the moment. Can...can I give her the message?" she stuttered nervously.
"Mrs Evans, what's going on?" Hannibal asked, picking up on her fright over the phone. "Where's Amy?"
"Prescott called and said that if my husband didn't deliver five hundred thousand dollars within the hour, he'd kill Meghan," she sobbed. "Greg didn't take any chances and he went. Miss Allen accompanied him saying that..."
"Saying what?"
"That she'd follow the man who would pick up the brieface to locate Meghan in case Prescott didn't release her. She said she knew what to do not to get caught."
"That sounds like her alright, foolish girl!" Hannibal seethed underneath his breath. "When did they leave?"
"I'd say about ten minutes ago."
"Ok, stay put. I'm on my way to your house right now."
Hannibal hung up and went to inform Face of the change of plans. "As the case may be it might be two or three hours before we hear anything on Murdock's condition. In the meantime we need to grab the bull by the horns and do away with Prescott and his band of merrymen once and for all. To make matters worse, Amy went with Evans. If she's smart she'll only shadow Prescott's puppet and report the location of the foxhole so we can storm in and wipe out the place."
"With our main exterminator out of commission, it might be tricky," Face observed, looking at B.A. slumbering on his hospital bed with his left arm in a fresh-moulded cast.
"We'll need to devise a contingency plan. Barring complications, B.A. should be out of here tomorrow. With any luck Prescott won't leave town and we'll nail him and his gang."
"Hannibal do you really believe that? Once he's got the money he'll hop on a plane to God knows where and play possum until the dust settles and return with another vengeance."
"That's not his style. The man is careful to cover his tracks so the authorities can't crack him down. He relishes each and every one of his victories and vengeance is much sweeter when you can actually witness your victims' torment. Come on, let's go. I'll leave word at the desk where to reach us."
"Look what I caught loitering about in the bushes?" The guard dragged a handcuffed and gagged Amy inside the shelter.
"Well, well, well, another one of Evans's surprises no doubt?" Prescott sneered, standing up from behind his desk to leer at the merchandise. "And what is your name, sweet cheeks?" he goaded before tearing the tape off her mouth.
"I don't know what this is all about. I was minding my own business, hiking in the woods when this bulky brute," she motioned to the guard with disdain," sprung out of the bushes and grabbed me. Did I trespass on your private property or something?" Amy affected convincingly, but not nearly enough for Prescott to take the bait.
"Pretty you may be, but smart, you aren't. You're Evans' mole. Fine. If that's the way he wants to play it, so be it. We've got the loot but now we've got two chips to bargain with. I like the odds."
"You have the money. You can release the girl."
"I'm not sure. I might raise the stake seeing how there's a third player in the game: You, Miss Allen."
"You know my name?"
"I know all about you and the A-Team that Evans recruited. It's my business to be wired into everything that goes on in my field."
"That would be the kidnapping business, right?" Amy scoffed, receiving a sneer in return.
"Don't be a wise girl, Miss Allen. It doesn't become you. Besides you're in no position to throw sarcasms around," Prescott slashed with a withering look.
"What do we do with her, boss?" asked one of the henchmen.
"I don't know, yet."
"I have a hunch the feds'll be swarming this place any minute. I say let's dump the load and make ourselves scarce."
"All in good time, Hutchins, all in good time. As long as we have the girls, they won't try anything foolish. They are our insurance policy. Go outside and keep watch. Meanwhile I'll plan our next move." Seeing Hutchins hesitate, Prescott opened the top drawer of his desk, pulled out his revolver, aimed and shot the man dead, startling everyone present in the room. "Anyone else here questioning my orders?" he asked nonchalantly with his index finger still on the trigger. "Good. Thompson, you go stand guard."
"Right away boss," he replied fearfully, casting a haunted look at the corpse lying on the floor in a pool of blood.
"And get rid of that mess."
"Sure boss."
"Where's the girl? Where Meghan?" Amy asked with every nerve and quiver.
Prescott motioned to a henchman who stepped up to Amy and grabbed her by the arm. "Where are you taking me? I want to see Meghan." She tried to wrench herself free of the powerful grip. "Where is she?"
"Shut up, broad!" the man bellowed as he dragged a handcuffed Amy down to the basement. "Here," he said, opening a concrete door and shoving Amy inside. "There's your little brat." He removed the handcuffs and closed the door.
Amy padded up to the terrified seven-year-old and introduced herself. Meghan eyed Amy dubiously from head to toe and once her fear subsided, she threw herself in Amy's arms. "Hey, hey, it's ok Meghan. I'm here now. You're not alone," Amy comforted while hugging the girl.
Meghan refused to release the embrace she felt was a safe haven. "I'm scared," she cried, tightening the clench.
"Don't be 'cause we're going to get out of here." Amy pulled away and scrunched down to Meghan's height. "As I said before, I work with your dad and some friends of mine know where we are," she fibbed to reassure the girl who fashioned a timid curl of the lip. "Trust me, We're going to be ok." She enlaced Meghan once more and closed her eyes in dread of a tragic ending.