Hannibal and Face arrived at the Evans. Minutes later, Greg parked the car in the driveway and stode over to the door. Mary yanked it open and fell into his arms. "How did it go?"
"As good as could be expected. I dropped the briefcase and drove away. Hopefully Prescott will honour his word and return Meghan before midnight."
"What about Amy?"
"She got off half a mile from the place. She seems to know what she's doing. With any luck she'll locate Prescott's hideout."
"I have a bad feeling about this," Hannibal worried with a faraway look. "If everything had gone according to Amy's plan, she whould have been back by now. She knows better than to roam about a shady place longer than she has to, especially with no back up." He turned to Face, equally concerned. "Face we'll need to go in together. We can't wait for B.A. Time is winding down."
"Alright Hannibal but we need artillery and we are very low on the merchandise."
"I have guns you can use," Greg spoke up, beckoning the two men to follow him down to the basement where he rummaged through an old chest to retrieve two briefcases, inside which were tucked two AK-47. "Don't ask me where I got them. It could be very embarrassing."
Hannibal nodded and picked up three weapons. He handed one to Face and then checked for ammunitions. "Evans, bet you know how to handle these?" Hannibal asked as he handed the third rifle to Greg.
Greg cracked a wicked grin and armed his weapon like a pro. "Sure do. I thought you'd never ask."
"We need all the fire power we can get but I warn you...no funny business. I don't want any trigger-happy clown on my watch. I give the orders."
"Got it."
They drove to the drop-off location where they parked the van in brushwood and camouflaged it with loose branches.
"It's unchartered territory so it's safe to assume that Prescott's hideout is a shed or an old abandoned mine shaft. Let's keep our eyes peeled and ears open. Watch where you're going and try to avoid stepping on anything that might give our position away. And please, no heroics. Remember, I give the orders," his warning mostly directed at the loose cannon in their mist than at the trained soldier.
Greg armed his AK-47 and nodded his understanding. "Anything to save my daughter. I trust your judgement, Hannibal."
"Good. Now, follow my lead."
With Hannibal leading the pack, they threaded lightly through the brush, weapon at the ready to aim at anything that moved.
Meanwhile at the shack, Prescott was nervously pacing the length of the small living room. The abandoned shack he'd chosen as refuge was lacklustre and a far cry from the lavishness he was accustomed to. The cabin reeked of decayed wood and that putrid stench was slowly gnawing at his patience.
"Boss, want me to go check around?"
"No need, Stoler's outside mounting guard. He'll fire a warning shot if there's trouble. I need you right here just in case." He stopped and looked out the window. "I've got that nasty gut feeling that we're in the crosshairs. I can smell him a mile away."
"Who? Evans?"
"No. Colonel John Smith. He's like a snake quietly slithering his way towards his prey and springs on it with his fangs before it can react." Prescott snarled, eyes shooting dagger at the raw memory of his dire encounter with Hannibal during the war. "That man is relentless but so am I," he grinded between gnashed teeth. "I want him dead!"
"You're not suggesting hunting down the A-Team once we're through with Evans?" The henchman ventured to ask.
"Of course not," Prescott exasperated. "That'd be suicide...for now. But someday. All in good times."
Down in the basement, our resourceful spunky Amy was hard at work removing loose planks against what appeared to be an underground tunnel. Meghan helped by carefully and quietly setting down the boards onto the floor.
"Bingo!" Amy exclaimed in a whisper. She turned to Meghan and softly clasped her hand. "It's very narrow and dark so take my hand and don't let go."
Meghan held on to Amy's hand with all of her might. "Are the men upstairs going to know what we're doing?"
"I don't think they even knew about the tunnel or they might not have kept us down here. Meghan, it might be scary down there and I don't know how long the tunnel is or where it leads, but hopefully we'll be free. If you get scared if you see a spider or something, don't scream. Put your hand over your mouth. We can't make any noise."
"Ok Amy."
"Come on. Let's go."
They stoop down as they started down the narrow and ink-dark tunnel. As expected, various creepy-crawlers accompanied the girls on their frightening journey, but when your very own life is at stake, phobias tend to fade out. Your fortitude smashes any given inner fear and endows you with the strength to reach your goal.
A glimmer of light filtered through a boarded entrance. Amy and Meaghan both kicked the planks loose and escaped into the woods.
Amy's instincts smacked her with a dose of dread. Suddenly, she screeched to halt and pulled Meghan behind a thicket. "Put your head down and don't make a sound," she instructed in a whisper as her keen sense of smell picked up the whiff of an enemy approaching.
As though on target, the foe reared up its ugly head with his rifle conveniently leaning on his arm as he scanned the area. The girls crouched further down and held their breaths until the threat passed.
"I think the coast is clear but just the same, follow me very closely," Amy advised the frightened little girl who nodded nervously.
Further down the untrodden path, Amy's instincts detected another menace, but contrary to the first she picked up, she felt unthreatened by it. She risked the hawk code and smiled in relief when a reply wafted in the air.
"We're safe, Meghan," she rejoiced as she hugged the little girl. "My friends are here."
"Where?"
Amy squinted her eyes to discern Face and Hannibal's forms crawling towards her. "Amy?" Hannibal whispered.
"We're here," she replied in a hushed tone, barely showing her head. "Straight ahead in the bushes."
"Meghan!" The father exclaimed ecstatically upon setting sight on his daughter. He dropped his weapon and pulled her into his arms.
"Are you ok, Sweetie. They didn't hurt you?"
"No daddy, I'm fine."
"Get down!" Hannibal admonished. "These woods are swarming with Prescott's scoundrels."
"I want to get Meghan back before we raid their rat hole," Evans explained.
"Yes, you, Meghan AND," Hannibal turned to Amy with a scowl, "Amy are going back. "Me and Face we'll take care of those scums."
"No!" Amy objected. "I know where their hideout is and you can use the secret tunnel to get them by surprise."
"Amy, don't argue," Hannibal scolded. "You were lucky to escape once."
"Hannibal," Face interjected warily, "Amy does know the place and as she says, she can lead us to a safe entrance. I don't see myself smashing the front door without the big guy to back us up."
"I don't like this plan at all," Hannibal sighed.
"It's either that or we wait for B.A. If we do, Prescott is likely to skip town once he discovers the girls have escaped."
"Hannibal it's the only way. And I'll be careful," Amy assured, but failed to convince Hannibal.
"Isn't that what you said the last time and look what happened?"
"I agree that I might have stepped over the limit by coming here but hadn't they caught me, I never would have saved Meghan and she'd still be in there," Amy argued her case.
"Amy, you were lucky, that's all. We don't go by field in our unit, we map out our strategy and follow the plan."
"Yes Sir," Amy relented knowing it was a lost cause trying to wrangle with Hannibal.
"Ok," Hannibal sighed in resignation. "You can come with us. But first we need to insure Evans and his daughter's safety. We're all going to escort them back to the van."
As they made their way back to the truck, one guard sprung from the bushes and ordered them to drop their weapon. Evans was simmering beneath and instead of imitating the others, he swiftly aimed and fired at the nuisance, riddling him with bullets.
"Oh Christ!" Hannibal cursed. "Now Prescott will release his hound dogs on us. So much for surprises. Hurry to the van!"
Then gang hightailed out of the woods on jumped into the truck. Face at the wheel put the pedal to the medal and sped away.
"They made us!" Prescott hurled to his henchmen standing guard. "Grab the loot and get out of here."
Two men dashed down to the basement to retrieve Amy and Meghan. "They're gone!" one observed to the other. "Look!" he motioned to the hole in the wall. "They've escaped."
"Prescott will go nut."
"Why don't we cut out of here through there? No doubt Prescott will waste us just like he did Armando."
"You're right. Let's go." He assisted his partner through the narrow tunnel and trod on his heel, leaving their ungrateful boss in their wake.
It didn't take long for Prescott to figure out that his men had flown the coop. He grabbed a loaded rifle and a handgun and headed out down to the basement. He scrawled through the narrow tunnel to the end where outside, near the entrance, his runaway car was parked, under heavy camouflage.
"Well, well, well," Crowed Hannibal with a cigar tucked in the corner of his mouth. "Lieutenant Gary ' Yellowbellied' Prescott I presume?"
"John Smith, We meet again." Prescott stared down at Face's AK-47 thrust right at his forehead.
"Put your rifle down, Prescott," Face instructed "and slowly."
Prescott gingerly lowered his main weapon down to the ground. Hannibal soon detected a hint of triumph in Prescott's facial expression. "And the handgun, smarty pants," Hannibal teased. "That smug of yours betrayed you once again, Prescott. You never could master the art of a poker face."
Prescott's smirk turned into a scowl and he pulled out his revolver from his break pocket. "You might have won this round, Smith, but the war ain't over. You know me. I always turn the tables in my favour."
"This time my friend, the game is over. No more gambling. If the law won't do the job, I will." Hannibal aimed his weapon and shot at Prescott's feet. "Lord knows the justice system isn't homed to perfection but if you so much fall through the cracks once more," Hannibal aimed at Prescott's head. "I'll hunt you down and put the slug between your wipers. I should put one in both your legs right now for running two of my men off the road and maybe crippling one for life. I'm being very generous by sparing you his agony. Don't test my patience."
"You're not afraid I'll give out your position to the authorities?" Prescott taunted. "You're wanted by the Feds as well, my friend."
Hannibal fashioned a wicked grin and ordered Prescott to march on.
Back at the Evans house, barely had they opened the door that an ecstatic Mary lifted her daughter in her arm and squeezed her tight.
It was decided that Greg would deliver Prescott to the authorities. Face volunteered to ride in the backseat with the handcuffed criminal while Evans drove to the police station, where he handed the prisoner over to the chief who was utterly grateful for this priceless catch.
Prescott rambled about the A-Team and his dealings with John Smith during this kidnapping stint. "He's right outside in Evans' car. Go check it out!"
When they reached the parking lot to examine Prescott's claim, the car was empty. Face had caught a taxi back to the Evans house before the cat was out of the bag.
In the hospital waiting room, Hannibal sat on the sofa, leaning on his fist as he tried to keep his leaden eyelids open while anxious Face strode the floor like a caged animal, ringing his clammy hands.
"Face, why don't go take a walk outside. You need to blow up steam."
"Oh and you don't?" Face snapped in spite of himself, causing Hannibal's head to snap up. "Sorry. Yeah I am a little overwrought but I want to stay here in case the doctor comes out. Should be any minute now."
"We said that ten times in the last hour. Go on, Face. I'll stay here and watch out for the doctor."
"Ok. I think I need some fresh air. Amy, you coming with me?"
Amy glanced down at her watch and guzzled down the last gulp of her coffee. "Yeah." She threw the cup in the trash can and joined Face.
As Face and Amy started for the exit, Hannibal sprung from his seat as the doctor approached.
"Mr. Smith?"
"How's Murdock?"
"Fortunately we were able to stop the bleeding. Aside from several bruises and lacerations, he has two fractured ribs but miraculously, none came close to puncturing a lung. Also a slight concussion that we're monitoring closely, though we haven't detected any haemorrhage in the brain."
"Thank God!" Face and Amy chorused.
"What about his legs?" Hannibal continued with a tinge of dread.