"I still don't see why you insist on knowing about my life 20 years ago," Jean told Murdock, "It ain't gonna change anything."
"No but it might answer some questions," he replied as he flipped through one of the photo albums that had arrived in the mail that morning. He looked up at Jean and told her, "A guy should be entitled to know something about the woman he's marrying."
"There isn't much to tell," Jean sat down beside him on the couch and told him as she pointed at various pictures, "See? Here's me when they brought me home from the hospital, here's me at Christmas…"
Murdock let out a wolf call whistle when he turned the page and saw a photograph of Jean as a baby laid back on a bath sponge in the tub.
"Centerfold," he said with a 'bad little boy' smirk on his face.
Jean laughed and told him, "No that came a little later." She flipped through the pages and came towards the end and showed Murdock of one when she was about 3, standing naked by the wall and posing.
"What was the occasion, New Year's Eve?" Murdock asked with a chuckle.
"Nope," Jean smiled in spite of herself, "No, just fresh out of the tub and demanding my picture taken because 'I look good!', you know mothers love showing their kids' pictures to everybody, my mother never went back this far in the album…" she was almost giggling as she explained to Murdock, "We had a lot of boys in the neighborhood."
"Ah," he replied, "That explains it."
Murdock flipped a few pages ahead and saw some pictures of Jean with some other children at what he supposed, was her home in New York, albeit it must've gone some redecorating over the years.
"Who're these?" he asked her.
Jean looked at the picture and answered, "Those were some kids I attended kindergarten with…I hadn't even thought about them for so long…I don't think I saw any of them after…hmm, the 5th grade maybe."
"Oh yeah? They all move or something?" he asked.
"Could be," Jean said, "It's been so long, I'd forgotten about them for a while…"
"You said," Murdock half closed the album, "You said that you didn't have any friends once you got to high school."
"Pretty much," she replied, "Nobody liked me by that time."
"How come?" he asked.
Jean shrugged, "Who knows? You know it's a very funny thing, our society just loves to beat us over the head with the speech about how everybody is an individual and that's what makes them unique, but you get into school, and if you don't act like everyone else, or a select group and act like all of them, then there's something wrong with you and you get branded as the problem that everyone avoids."
Murdock opened the album back up and asked her, "But that didn't happen here?"
Jean shook her head, "I got along with the other kids back then. You know despite the stereotypes that they wrap us in from the day we're born: pink and blue, dolls and guns, at that age there's not much difference in boys and girls, so it was easy for all of us to get along. We'd all run around playing Rat Patrol, G.I. Joe, the East Side Kids, Hogan's Heroes, you name it."
"I see," he replied as he turned his attention back to the photos.
"But then when everybody gets older and they start changing, then it's a whole other game, whole new set of rules. Suddenly you have all these expectations thrust upon you of what's 'appropriate' and what is not and who it is okay to socialize with and who it isn't, and then there's also the matter of behavior becoming questionable."
Murdock nodded, "I understand about that one."
Jean leaned back against the couch and elaborated, "You know, you're 10 years old, you run around playing war, tossing grenades at the other team, shooting enemy soldiers on sight, that's all very normal, but when you're 13, then you're told you too old to be acting like that, time to start acting more adult, and then in 5 years when you are an adult, you find yourself signing your life away to the Army to go halfway around the world and do it for real, funny, ain't it?"
"Yeah," Murdock replied, "Except I don't hear anyone laughing."
Jean nodded and added, "Growing up sucks, it would be a better process if the adults would disappear and take their expectations and opinions with them. I could never figure out why when you're a kid, it's perfectly suitable to be imaginative, then when you get to be in high school, that's not supposed to play any role in your life anymore because it's too 'childish', but what happens with the people who graduate and then go on to become writers or cartoonists or something like that? Something that does require a very strong and persistent imagination? If you spend years losing it in the middle, how are you going to expect to get it back in the end?"
"It's a good question," Murdock said, "Probably one nobody ever thought about before either."
A light bulb went off in his head and he asked Jean, "If you weren't friends with anybody in high school, then how'd you come to notice that the guys that went to enlist weren't coming back?"
"Just because you're 'not friends' with people doesn't automatically mean they'd sooner step on your face than talk to you. I knew some of them enough to say 'hi' and make small talk, but none of us were ever close, that's all."
"Oh, I see," he nodded.
Jean picked up a second album and flipped through to the middle; these were pictures taken from the high school era in her life. Her eyes seemed to be looking past the pictures and straight down at something else entirely.
"You ever wish you could turn back the clock, go back and maybe do something differently than you had?" she asked.
"Sure, everybody does," Murdock said.
Jean felt along one of the pages just beside the photos on the far left and she said, "It would've been so much easier, to just…" but she didn't finish the thought.
Murdock looked over her shoulder at the pictures she was focusing on. Jean in high school was a skinnier girl with a skinnier face, longer red hair but not long enough to look like anything resembling femininity, in fact if anything she looked like David Bowie at the height of his Ziggy Stardust phase. Her eyes were clearer and shone more, eyes that hadn't yet been exposed to the horrors of war, her whole face looked more youthful and it wasn't just because she was 7 or 8 years younger. Murdock caught a small chuckle in his throat as a thought occurred to him. Sleeping Beauty. Asleep and rejuvenated, sheltered and safe, and completely unaware of what was going on around her. Ah but the story couldn't end like that, eventually you had to wake up and face the world. And when she had, she'd hit the ground running at full force. A necessary evil, just like the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden, something that had damned all of mankind and yet had to be done for life to have any meaning to it. One of those twisting and turning ironies that nobody could figure out, but it was important they existed.
Instead of dwelling on this fact though, Murdock just chuckled at the picture of Jean and told her, "You were too scrawny back then, you looked like me."
She turned to him and Murdock could better see the contrast in Jean then, and now. Now, here and now, he could see everything; the hardening around her eyes that refused to give away any emotion when it could be helped, a mouth that willed itself not to smile so much anymore, a face full of more color now than it had possessed back then, back in good ol' four-seasoned New York where the sun and heat disappeared for about half the year. Surprisingly, she smiled at him, an open mouthed grin; there, that was the only thing that was still the same after all this time and all the trials and tribulations. He glanced back at the picture and saw he was right, still that same sheepish, crooked grin with the uneven teeth with the gaps between them. That had been one of the first things Hannibal had noticed about her from her photograph; it hadn't been one of the first things Murdock noticed about her either in her picture, or in person.
In the last few days he'd found himself thinking back to the question when exactly it had been that he'd realized he was in love with this woman. He honestly couldn't think. He also thought back to the cliché that the first two things every man noticed about the woman he loved were her eyes, and her smile; two of the boldest faced lies he'd ever heard if he did say so himself. The first thing he'd noticed about her was her overall appearance when she revealed her true self after discarding her Chinese lady disguise when she got the drop on them. She hadn't really smiled then, no surprise, back then she had little reason to smile, and now she liked to try and maintain an unreadable stone faced expression if possible. But she couldn't fool him. He could see past her constant scowls and glares; he'd had plenty of experience over the years reading between the lines of those kinds of fronts with B.A, he knew the angry mudsucker could never stay mad at him despite his almost daily threats of bodily harm.
Murdock turned to another page in the album and had a good laugh at a picture of Jean in a bomber jacket and crusher cap. "What's this?" he asked.
Jean looked embarrassed by the picture, "Oh no…that was the Halloween I decided to go as Colonel Hogan."
Murdock laughed harder as he peeled back the protective sheet and picked up the photo, "I don't think you do Bob Crane much justice."
"Ain't mine he needs, especially where he is these days," she replied.
"This is fun," Murdock said.
"For you," Jean said, "I would've been perfectly content with leaving all of this in the past."
"How come?" he asked.
"It's not fair, I don't get to see any embarrassing pictures of you when you were a kid," she said.
"No, but you know you can ask me anything, I'll gladly tell it," Murdock replied.
"That's because there's nothing to back up anything you say, you can lie about it," Jean said.
Murdock looked appalled and asked her, "Do you really think I'd lie?"
"Yes!" Jean answered without missing a beat.
There was a short pause before Murdock responded, "You're probably right."
That night Hannibal crept into the kitchen to get something to eat, and turned on the light and found he had company.
"Evening, Captain, can't sleep?" he asked as he went over to the table where Murdock was seated.
"I guess not, Colonel," he answered.
Hannibal sat down across from him and asked, "You wouldn't happen to be avoiding going to bed, would you?"
"Uh, well…" he saw the look on Hannibal's face and quickly answered, "No, that's not it."
"Something else? What?" Hannibal asked.
Murdock looked to him and couldn't help the sheepish expression on his face. Hannibal could guess what was going through the pilot's mind. He knew that the last few days, the Captain had thought heavily back to when they'd been the ones to help deliver Maria's baby. It was not the first baby that Murdock had ever seen be born, this Hannibal knew, but it was probably the first, it was definitely the first in a long time, that Murdock had seen born, in civilization, here in this country, in this city, instead of off in the jungle villages back in 'Nam. And from his own memories, he also knew that this had been a far better experience for all involved. And Hannibal was sure that it had gotten the Captain thinking back to his own situation, the prospect of someday having children of his own, that fateful moment when he would be able to hold his own newborn children the same way he had with Maria's baby after the delivery.
"You think it's in the cards for us, Colonel?" Murdock asked, sounding hopeful, but only slightly.
"Could very well be, Captain," Hannibal answered, "Only time will tell."
Murdock folded his arms on the tabletop and rested his head on them and commented, "I want to have kids…lot of 'em."
Hannibal gave a small smile and responded, "The way things are going you may have to have a few for the rest of us too. Now, are you going upstairs or not?"
"I'd…rather not," Murdock answered.
"You still worried?" Hannibal asked.
Murdock gave a small nod and kept his eyes focused on the table.
"There haven't been anymore…incidents, right?" he asked.
"Not yet," Murdock said, "But I'm worried there will."
"That's possible, or, it could be a freak one-time thing," Hannibal told him, "Those happen too you know."
Murdock didn't seem to be convinced by that thought though.
Hannibal decided to try another route, "Would it make you feel better if I went up with you?"
Murdock looked up and across the table at the Colonel with a puzzled expression on his face.
"You remember after Face choked her? You remember what we did about the sleeping arrangements since we were all staying at my apartment?"
Murdock nodded, "You kept Face out on the hide-a-bed with B.A. and the three of us crammed into your bed…"
"We could do it again," Hannibal said, "I'm sure Jean's bed is big enough for all of us, and I'd noticed if you tried crawling over me in the night."
Murdock thought about it for a minute and said quietly, "I guess it's worth a try."
"Come on," Hannibal said as he got up from the table, "We'll go get Jean up."
Hannibal didn't know how much Jean made doing stunts in movies but he figured she had to be doing pretty well; her big was adequately big enough for the three of them, whereas the last time they did this he'd had to try sleeping with their elbows constantly in his ribs.
Jean hadn't had any objections to the sleeping arrangements, and it had been obvious from watching her that she hadn't been concerned about any incidents happening during the night one way or the other. Weird as it sounded, it was easier to be the person almost killed than to be the person who almost killed them; in instances like that, the people in Jean's position didn't have to worry about doubting themselves, their capabilities, their subconscious actions. So it made sense she had moved on from this easier than Murdock had.
Now though, it was, he guessed since he couldn't see the clock, 2 o' clock in the morning, and they were both asleep on the sides of him. He was able to pull himself up enough to look at the two of them and he had to admit they were kind of cute. But the more he thought about it, he was able to appreciate the irony of it, he was the only thing between them, and that seemed to be literal in more ways than one. He thought back to the fight he and Jean had gotten into the night Murdock choked her, he'd honestly thought they'd gotten past all of this before, but he realized that Jean had been right.
It was hard after spending more than 10 years together as they had, having few people other than themselves to count on, to suddenly adapt to letting someone else in, to accepting the fact that one day, this outsider was going to mean more than the Team did, and in reality, that was exactly what was going to happen, if these two ever got down the aisle together. It was a hard fact to accept but Hannibal knew he had to. When the four of them had first gotten back to America and hired their services out, it had been completely on the fly, there was no long term planning, it was just supposed to hold them over until they could find a way to clear their names. After a while it became obvious that that was never going to happen, so they were just going to have to fit the parts that they'd begun to play. He'd never thought back then, he doubted that any of them had, that they would still be in the same position over 10 years later. Until the time came that you walked a mile in those shoes, you never realized how time consuming the life of a fugitive was. In 'Nam they'd all had separate plans for when and if they came home, the lives they would lead, the jobs they would get, the families they would have, and none of that had been possible, and all on account of Colonel Morrison and his bright idea to hit Hanoi's bank. Of course that hadn't been the problem, him getting killed before he could inform anyone else of the plan had been the problem.
Lying there in the dark and quiet, Hannibal's mind was working on overdrive, even more than it already usually did. He started to think back to their last little problem, General 'Bull' Fulbright…he seemed to recall that Morrison had mentioned Fulbright a few times, in fact…it couldn't be possible, could it? Hannibal could hardly remember anymore, but was it possible that those two had been friends? But it was obvious that Fulbright wasn't under Morrison's wing because Fulbright didn't believe the robbery story anymore than anyone else in the military ever had. Catch-22 had nothing on them. He reached up and ran a hand through his border-lining white hair, as the leader of the Team he always had to come off as sure of everything for the benefit of his men, sometimes he did it so convincingly that even he started to believe himself. For a long time he'd had himself convinced that he would find a way, something that he could do to clear the names of himself and his men. If he hadn't been able to come up with something by now, Hannibal knew the odds were good that he never would, too much time had passed, if there had ever been any evidence that could confirm they'd been set up…it was gone with the wind, and the flames and the debris that had burnt after the attacks in Hanoi.
All that could be done now was to pick up the pieces as they were and carry on. And Hannibal realized, as a father generally did when his children grew up and started to branch out on their own, that the time was approaching he was going to have to learn to let go. Murdock had already been married this girl, he was going to be married to her again, there was no doubt about that, and Hannibal had to accept that; he'd thought he already had but over time he'd realized it hadn't been as simple as that. He knew it wasn't going to be easy, for any of them, no matter how they split things; there was still the simple fact, they were still going to be a Team, they were still going to be for hire, and they were still going to be going on missions all over the world and Jean would be left in the dust here in L.A., then when they got back home, he was going to be hers and for a large part, hers alone. It was going to be a real juggle, but he also knew it would be worth it, for all involved.
Yoo-hoo, Hannibal, are you in there? Jean thought to herself as she looked up at the older man who seemed to be asleep. She waved her hand to see if it would get his attention, even in the dark, but there was no response. She squinted one eye at him and added mentally, I know you're in there, old man, and you're not fooling me. You're watching us, admit it.
Jean had been practicing as best as she could with no idea what expectations to have, how to prepare for having her mind read by men fully capable of the task. Hannibal had never served in the CIA but Jean suspected if anybody ever could read minds, the Colonel was just sneaky enough to find a way. But if he could, he was doing a damn fine job of playing oblivious. She knew he could sense every movement made every time any of them so much as breathed heavily in the bed, all the same, she reached over Hannibal and placed her hand on Murdock to see if he was awake. She got his attention and he tiredly stirred and looked over at her. He gave a tired smile and reached over and grabbed her hand in his.
Another thought occurred to Jean and she wondered if since Murdock had worked for the CIA if he was able to read minds. But, she dismissed that idea because if he could, he would've put as much distance between himself and her a long time ago. No, that had to be 'just one of those little things I haven't mastered yet', or however he put it. All the same, she tried telepathically sending a small message to Murdock, about the near future, about their near future, and what they were going to have to do. If he'd actually picked up on it or not, she didn't know, but he tightened his grip on her hand slightly and gave a more assured smile, as if he knew all the same.
Jean could feel her intestines twisting into bowties, she wondered if Hannibal always felt as sure about himself and his plans as he presented himself when he tried to convince the others that he knew what he was doing. There were plenty of times that she was sure about her own plans, but a lot of times they were also either hit or miss, also plenty of times that she could hardly tell which way was up, but only pressed on because she saw no alternatives, and failure by forfeit was not an option. As Murdock was wont to say, 'not doing it would be a lot worse than doing it badly, which I was not about to do'. Hard to argue with that logic. She just hoped that when the morning came, she felt as sure about this latest plan of hers as she knew she needed to be, especially if she was going to sell Hannibal on it.
The next morning, Jean and Murdock were able to get Hannibal alone for a few minutes so Jean could explain her plan to him. The three of them sat at the kitchen table and after Jean had told him her idea, they awaited his response.
"This is definitely one of the more unusual ideas I've ever heard," Hannibal said, and the others knew that was no easy feat given the ones he'd come up with over the years. He addressed Jean and asked her, "And you thought of this all by yourself?"
Jean had her head on the table, held up only by the fist leaning against it for support, she looked at him through one eye and replied, "I'm just saying we need to consider this possibility, Hannibal."
"Alright," Hannibal pushed his chair back, "Let's assume that Stockwell is after Murdock, why?"
Jean opened her mouth to answer but Murdock stopped her and told her, "It was my job, I need to tell him."
Hannibal looked to his Captain questioningly, "Tell me what?"
Murdock sucked in a sharp breath and as he let it out he answered, "I did two jobs for the CIA, once in the late 60s and the other in 1972."
Hannibal's eyes widened slightly, "Coincidentally, right around the time we hit the bank of Hanoi no doubt?"
"Sorry, Colonel."
"And…you never found this to be worth telling us about?" Hannibal inquired.
Jean felt pins and needles all throughout her body, like a cat with its back arching up, she suddenly felt very defensive and said to Hannibal, "Is there any reason he should've? The missions didn't involve you, they didn't want you, they wanted him."
"Why though?" Hannibal asked.
Murdock scratched a spot on the back of his head and explained, "For what I do best, Colonel."
As Hannibal chewed on that, Jean took the opportunity to add, "That in itself ought to say plenty given they have access to any pilot they want."
Hannibal nodded slowly, he looked to Murdock and asked him, "And when you were there, were you ever acquainted with Stockwell?"
Murdock shook his head, "No, I would've remembered that, Colonel."
Hannibal nodded again as he thought about all of this, "But that doesn't mean Stockwell doesn't know about Murdock, if Stockwell is in the CIA he could be after Murdock for something, but what?"
"I think we need to give him a chance to find out," Jean said.
Hannibal looked to his Captain and asked, "And you two have discussed all of this?"
Murdock nodded.
"And you're okay with this?" Hannibal asked.
"Honestly, Colonel? I'm not sure," Murdock answered, "But you gotta admit, he's not going to be expecting this, and if Jean's right, he's going to come crawling out of the woodwork and expose himself."
"And then we've got him," Jean said, "Or at the very least, an ample opportunity to catch the rat. As it currently stands he's too slippery to grab, he knows what he's doing."
Hannibal nodded, "So what we have to do is find a way to pull the rug out from under him."
"And this is the only way I can think of and it'll confirm one way or the other if his target is Murdock," Jean said.
Hannibal let out a huffed breath and said, "Okay…I'll call Amy and tell her to punch up something for tomorrow's paper."
The morning edition of the Los Angeles Courier had a very interesting story for its front page. The large bolded headline read: A-TEAM PILOT HOSPITALIZED AFTER BREAKDOWN. The article beneath it explained how decorated Air Force Captain H.M. 'Howlin' Mad' Murdock had been resubmitted to the V.A. hospital after reportedly suffering a nervous breakdown and was currently being examined and analyzed to see if he had returned to a state of insanity. The paper had even mentioned that Murdock had been returned to his old room, #104 in the psychiatric wing, and was once again under the care of his former psychiatrist, Dr. Richter.
3 hours after the morning papers had come out, Colonel Decker made a special trip to the V.A. and had a nurse take him to Captain Murdock's room to have a word with the pilot. The nurse advised Decker that Murdock wasn't currently speaking to anyone, but that seemed to be irrelevant where Decker was concerned. During the walk to the psychiatric wing, they passed a few hospital workers wearing germ masks; Decker didn't know if there was some epidemic at the hospital but currently that wasn't his concern either.
Decker looked in the small window in the door before entering. Murdock looked like he'd been run through the wringer and then directly into a session of electroshock therapy. The pilot lay facedown on his bed, lay being a loose term, his whole body was stretched out as stiffly as possible, the toes of his sneakers were pressed as far into the foot of the bed as they could reach. His arms lay limp half at his sides but leaned more towards behind his back as if he were handcuffed.
Stepping into the room now was like walking into the 5th dimension, nothing was the same. Decker remembered the last time he'd been here; actually he remembered the last time he'd been here to see Murdock, he'd also had the misfortune of being put in this room after he'd been shot. But he thought back to when Murdock was the patient, he looked around the room and noticed everything was gone: the large arcade games, the basketball hoop on the door, the T-shirts that had been on the walls, he'd still never figured that one out. Everything was gone, now it looked like a general run-of-the-mill V.A. hospital room, it was weird. The only thing that made the room bear any resemblance to how it had before, was a teddy bear on the nightstand next to the bed, other than that, it was completely impersonal, obviously a rush job.
Murdock was completely oblivious to Decker's presence, he didn't move when the Colonel spoke to him and Decker found himself grabbing Murdock violently to turn him over and force the Captain to establish eye contact with him. It was exactly as if no time had passed at all, Decker was still convinced that Murdock was merely faking, just as he had been faking his crazy act for over 10 years, and he was determined to get some answers out of Murdock, no matter what it took. And he made it clear to the oblivious pilot that he intended to get some answers out of him about the A-Team and their locations.
Through Decker's constant berating and interrogating, Murdock never cracked once, he was completely unresponsive, it was only after Decker had finally shut up that the pilot said anything, and when he did it was pure gibberish, completely undecipherable. Decker had never been convinced by any of Murdock's crazy acts but this one had his attention and his eyes were steadily growing wider as Murdock's ramblings became faster paced and louder. And when he stopped rambling, he grabbed the teddy bear off the nightstand, he held it in one hand and stroked through its short fur with the other a couple of times before he lashed out and bit the teddy bear and ripped a hole into it, after which he proceeded to chew the stuffing out of it and spit it out on the floor. Decker slowly backed to the door one step at a time and quickly left the room and locked the door behind him.
The same nurse that had shown him in came up to him and asked, "Will you be leaving now?"
"Not a chance in hell," Decker shook his head, "You don't know that man, I've been more than well acquainted with him over the years, I know he's hiding something, and I intend to find out what it is."
The nurse peeked in the small window at Murdock, and turned back to Decker and told him, "Good luck. I suspect you'll have a long wait."
Around the corner, two of the hospital workers who had been cleaning the floors, who had left their posts and inched along the corridor to eavesdrop, lowered their masks, revealing it was Face and Jean, and they looked at each other questioningly.
That night, long after visiting hours were over, a black car pulled up outside the hospital, and a man got out. A man, dressed in a dark suit, who stood about 5'8, who looked somewhere between late 50s and early 60s, who had not particularly aged well, he had short black hair that was starting to go white on the sides, and despite it being pitch dark outside, had come to the hospital wearing a set of tinted sunglasses, but not dark enough to blot out his eyes from the people who met him. Alone, this man walked into the hospital and forewent the front desk entirely, showing himself to the psychiatric ward and made the trip alone down to room #104.
He quickly found he wasn't alone on this visit however. Colonel Roderick Decker waited outside Murdock's room, seated on a gurney pressed up against the opposite side wall. It gave him a decent view in through the door's window, even though the room was also pitch dark by now.
"Colonel Decker, I presume," the man said.
Decker turned at the mention of his name and asked the man, "We've met before?"
"Not exactly," the man took off his sunglasses long enough to scratch near one eye and he explained, "I'm General Hunt Stockwell."
The name rang no bells, but Decker turned up his nose and scoffed and said, "You don't look like any General I've ever seen."
"Maybe you just haven't been looking in the right places, what with being kept down on the totem pole and all," Stockwell not so subtly suggested.
Decker glared at him and demanded to know, "What brings you here, General?"
"I believe we share a common interest," Stockwell pointed to the door across the hall, "Captain Murdock."
"We don't share anything, General," Decker told him.
"Oh I believe you're wrong, Colonel," Stockwell emphasized the last word like he was pouring a can of Morton's into a wide gash, "See we're both very interested in finding and capturing the A-Team."
Decker gave a nauseating smirk and replied cynically, "Now you're not going to tell me that Bullen sent you as my new replacement."
"Hardly," the General haughtily commented.
"Then what's your take in all of this?" Decker wanted to know.
"I have my own reasons for wanting to find the A-Team," Stockwell said simply.
Decker nodded his head towards the door, "And you think Captain Murdock knows where they are."
"At this current time, that is irrelevant to me," Stockwell told Decker.
Decker folded his arms and almost looked coy as he responded, "Really."
There was a sound, a click or something, a split second before the two men found themselves plunged into complete darkness as all the lights went out in the hospital.
"What the—?"
The blackout only lasted a few seconds, then the lights flickered back on but it was accompanied by a nerve wracking siren alarm.
"What the hell is that?" Decker asked.
"Someone's escaped!" Stockwell exclaimed.
The two men charged into Murdock's room, Decker threw on the lights and they found the bed was empty.
"He escaped!" Decker roared.
The next sound they heard was another click, this one the sound of a door closing behind them, and locking. They turned and saw a shadowed figure move away from the door, and they quickly found that they had both been locked in.
"This is just great," Decker groaned.
Throughout the hospital, they heard other sounds, amidst all the chaos and confusion one thing that became obvious was that the entire hospital was on lockdown and nobody was getting in or out. Search lights went on outside and the men were able to see out the ground floor window and saw a quick moving figure tearing off across the hospital lawn, and they were able to see that that figure wore a leather bomber jacket and a baseball cap.
"Un-be-lievable!" Decker exclaimed.
Stockwell threw up the window and tried to kick out the screening that had apparently been put back in place after the escape, but when he did, all he got was an electric shock.
"That was a nice touch, B.A.," Jean said into her radio as they made their getaway from the hospital in Face's 'Vette, "Making the screen a full size bug zapper!"
"Yeah but you know, Hannibal," Face also said into the radio, "I think Decker's having a little too much fun with this."
"Well he has to have some kind of stress release otherwise he'd just go plain nutty," Hannibal responded.
"How's everything going on your side?" Jean asked Hannibal.
"We're just waiting for you guys to get here, and then we'll be ready," they heard him respond.
"Hey Hannibal," Jena said, "You really think this is going to work?"
"It's your plan, kid, you tell me," he remarked.
"This wasn't part of my plan," Jean told Hannibal, "Confronting Stockwell was my plan, you wouldn't let me go ahead with it."
"I wouldn't worry," they could almost hear Hannibal grinning, "I'm sure the opportunity will present itself within due time. How long is it going to be before you guys can get here?"
"What's the speed limit?" Face asked.
"About 50 miles an hour," Jean answered.
Face pressed down on the accelerator so the speedometer climbed to 80 and he yelled into the radio, "We'll be there shortly, Hannibal, get ready!"
"I just hope this works," Jean said.
Hannibal's voice came back to them over the radio and he responded, "What could possibly go wrong?"
Stockwell didn't know who, but he'd already made up his mind he was going to kill somebody. By the time the hospital had been taken off lockdown and he'd gotten done being interrogated by the hospital staff and the police and the MPs that had come to investigate the breakout, it was after 1 o' clock in the morning and he was sure that by now Murdock was long gone, the only question was to where? Perhaps the other question was to whom? He reached the front lobby just as Decker was leaving, where to, Stockwell didn't know, nor did he care.
The phone at the front desk rang, and just as Stockwell was about to reach the door, the nurse called him over and said that he had a phone call.
"Hello?" he asked as he took the receiver.
It was one of his informants. "Colonel Decker just left the V.A. hospital, General."
"I know he just left, I'm still here, you idiot!" Stockwell said, "I know you didn't call me just for that!"
"He left after he got a phone call there," the informant continued.
"Oh he did?" Stockwell craned his neck and eyed the nurse questioningly, "And what was it about?"
"A call came in for him from the sheriff of a jail a couple hours' away from here," the informant said, "The A-Team has been arrested and are currently being kept in a holding cell pending Decker's arrival."
The corners of Stockwell's mouth curved up into a sinister grin, "Oh they are? Well why didn't you say so in the first place? Did the sheriff happen to say how many of them there were?"
"Four, General."
Aha. "I see, thank you very much," Stockwell slammed the receiver down and grinned to himself the entire way out to his car. It looked like he had the entire A-Team right where he wanted them after all.