Face: Ah, come on, Hannibal. You don't intend to go back there? Those guys are expecting us.

Hannibal: They're looking for us out here. Not expecting us back there. Big difference.

Murdock: Sneaking back into a warzone with the same plan a second time is insane.

Hannibal: It's brilliant. They'll never think we're crazy enough to do it. I mean, they see the abandoned van, they automatically assume we're on foot. They never think to look to look inside. Everybody thinks that the best plans are the most alabered ones, they're not.

- "Harder Than it Looks"

Chapter 16: Pieces of the Puzzle

Hannibal rounded the corner from the Wheels of Tomorrow exhibit, emerging onto the cobblestone street lined with old fashioned storefronts. The lighting in this area had not been changed upon closing to the public, which allowed the Colonel to immediately recognize it as Yesterday's Main Street . . . the same picturesque area that seemed to be captivated in time. This was the same exhibit where Face had revealed why he was so glum during the Christmas season.

Of all the places within the Museum, he knew that the other members of the A-Team would not only recall the dim lighting within this area, but how close it was to the entrance where they had managed to sneak into the building. It made for the ideal place for a rendezvous and could give them an advantage over any guards that may be trying to pursue them.

The sound of approaching footsteps forced the Commanding Officer to retreat to the entryway he had just passed through a moment ago. He pressed his back against the fake storefront, trying to get his breathing under control. Cautiously, he peered around the corner to try to see who was approaching. Was it a guard? Could it be Kramer or Spencer? Or was it a member of his unit?

A figure emerged on the west end of the exhibit. That end was close to the yellow staircase, but that didn't necessarily mean anything as it still could have been anyone. The light from the staircase was at his back, creating a silhouette effect. It was impossible to tell, at that point, who the person was. It wasn't until he passed beneath one of the dimmed overhead lights that his golden blonde hair was highlighted, almost to the point where it glowed like a beam of sunlight. He had looked behind him, trying to see if anyone had followed.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Hannibal immediately recognized his second in command. Apparently the Lieutenant had finished searching Spencer's office, although the Colonel hoped that he had found something that could be useful. "Face," he said in a semi-loud whisper as he stepped forward into view.

The con artist practically jumped as he heard his nickname . . . the one that his Commanding Officer had branded him with so long ago. Although he had come here on the chance that he could meet up with the other members of the unit, the fact that their presence had been alerted to the guards meant that the whole Museum was going to be crawling with them, each one of them searching for the members of the A-Team. Upon seeing the Colonel step out from around the corner, he let out a sigh of relief of his own. "Boy, oh boy. Hannibal, am I glad to see you," he started to say in a low tone. "You won't believe what I found up in Spencer's office."

"Save it until we're in the clear. I've got a couple of his hounds on my tail," the silver-white haired leader stated, throwing a sidelong glance into the Wheels of Tomorrow exhibit. Right now, they had a few choices, although none of them really appealed to him, and he sure in the hell wasn't going to leave the Museum without BA and Murdock. He already had a plan brewing on how to bring Spencer to justice, but in order to carry that out he was going to need all of his men with him.

"Well, you're not the only one," Face started to mention, casting a worried glance back toward the yellow stairway. With the information that he had managed to find, if they were caught, he knew that Spencer likely wouldn't allow them to leave the Museum alive. "I think a guard almost found me up there after the alarm went off. He could be down here any second. What happened?"

Hannibal shrugged his shoulders, even though he never showed any signs of his confidence faltering. "Things didn't go exactly according to plan."

The young Lieutenant practically rolled his eyes at that response, and then observed wryly, "You can say that again. We're really stuck between a rock and a hard place this time. What do you want to do?" He glanced at the Colonel expectantly, inwardly praying that he would come up with a solid plan that would allow them to evade capture.

"I'm thinking . . ." Hannibal muttered. He hadn't failed to notice how Face had rolled his eyes, but he knew that the con artist was right. They were effectively cornered, caught in a well placed pincer movement with guards coming at them from both directions. Not even a well planned frontal or counter assault would solve the problem this time. He really wanted to pull out and light up a cigar right then and there, as that would help him think, but he knew that the guards would smell the cigar smoke and it'd give away their position.

At that moment, a door within a dark corner of the exhibit opened with a soft creak. Hannibal immediately froze and looked in the direction of the door, but also noticed that Face did the same thing. His heart was practically pounding with the prospect that Spencer might have had the upper hand. He mentally berated himself for not checking that door once he had entered into the area, when he had remembered it being open when the Museum had been opened.

His concerns were immediately quelled as he recognized the grinning visage and trademark baseball cap of the person that emerged from the doorway. "Hey, anyone bring some popcorn?" the figure jokingly asked with a thick Texan drawl.

"Murdock!" Face whispered both out of relief, as well as shock. He certainly had not expected the pilot to emerge from where he did, but he was very thankful to see him. If he had found that spot, maybe they had a chance to regroup for a bit. That would be fine by him, especially since he still needed to share what he had found out in Spencer's office with the others.

A smile appeared upon the Colonel's face as he walked into the darkened theater. Even at this time of night, the silent black and white movie played upon the screen, and the melodic sounds from a player piano trickled through the small space. "How'd you find this spot, Captain?" Hannibal wondered.

"I heard they have a great double matinee," the Texan responded with a quirky grin on his face. Even in spite of the seriousness of the situation and the danger they all faced, Murdock had a way of being able to still joke around and make light of things.

Face rolled his eyes at Murdock's response as he entered, shutting the door firmly behind them. The only thoughts racing through his mind concerned Hannibal. The Colonel was just as crazy as Murdock for going into this mock up of a silent movie house. It would probably be one of the first places where the guards would think of looking. It was too obvious of a hiding spot to not warrant a search, provided they were smart enough to think about it.

Murdock's grin dropped as he regained a sense of seriousness. He knew that Hannibal likely wasn't going to be too happy, but his Commanding Officer needed to hear the details of what had occurred. "BA and I ran into a few guards while trying to go after Kramer. He slipped away while we had to deal with them. One of the guards got to the alarm before we could stop him. BA and I split up to try and find Kramer, but I had another guard that picked up my trail and started doggin' me, so I hid in here to try and shake 'im."

"Hannibal, I don't like this," Templeton Peck tried to protest. He didn't know how the two of them could make light of their current predicament, especially with BA elsewhere in the Museum and only God knew if he was having any luck with finding this Kramer guy that Murdock had mentioned, much less avoiding the Museum's rent-a-cops. Thankfully, they seemed woefully under-trained for a situation like this, otherwise they likely would have been in custody shortly after he had first picked the lock on the large copper doors. Heck, if they were better trained, this theater would have been one of the first places that they'd search . . .

"Oh, lighten up, Face. They'll never think about looking here," Hannibal said confidently, dismissing the Lieutenant's concern. He almost acted as if he knew what the guards' movements were, and didn't seem to be the slightest bit worried.

"He's right, Faceman. They'll figure out that we thought about hiding in here, then decided against it because it'd be the first spot that they'd look, and keep moving. But we're hiding here because we figure that they'll think we're not in here . . ." Murdock rambled with a quiet enthusiasm. As he spouted out the words, he could see a smile flash upon the Colonel's face.

"Murdock, only someone like you would understand Hannibal's logic," Face commented. Hannibal was on a major dose of the Jazz, and Murdock was practically right behind him. With the two of them like that, he instinctively knew that this was not going to end well . . .

Speaking of the guards, they were likely to show up any second now. Deciding it was best to get back to the heart of the matter, Colonel Smith interrupted, "As much as I'd like to see you two debate this, we need to figure out what's going on. Face, you said you found something in Spencer's office . . ."

"Right," Face said as he reached up to straighten his tie. He wandered over to the front of the theater, the light from the black and white movie playing off his features as he looked back at the others. Due to the projection, he cast a large shadow on the screen behind him. "Spencer is so predictable. He keeps a safe behind a painting in the wall, and his important papers under a hidden floorboard."

The Lieutenant saw Hannibal fold his arms across his chest where he stood and looked at him expectantly. He glanced over to Murdock, who grabbed a seat in the theater and also cast his large brown eyes upon him. He drew in a breath and then began to explain, "Anyway, I found detailed records of what the Museum has been receiving and shipping over the last few months in Spencer's safe, along with contracts for the security guards. There was an identical copy of the shipping manifest in Spencer's files, except . . . some of the security classifications were doctored. They were purposely altered to prevent anyone else from having access to the stuff except Spencer and his cronies."

"You don't think he may have had Mrs. B doctor those files . . ." Murdock started to ask, not even wanting to think of the possible repercussions. If she had any part in it, even if Spencer pulled the wool over her eyes and didn't tell her what was going on, she likely could be prosecuted and face a bit of jail time. He shuddered to think of how BA would react if that was the case.

"No, I don't think she did. From what I saw of the other files in his office, anything that Mrs. B wrote up had her initials hand written on there in the lower right hand corner. These didn't have that," the con artist responded, shaking his head slightly. In a way, he was relieved since he knew what the pilot was getting at and the possible implications it could have. Turning back to the Colonel, he continued, "You're just going to love this one, Hannibal. The guy also keeps records of all of the illegal items that he's been acquiring and selling on the black market."

Hannibal nodded thoughtfully, as he took in what the Lieutenant had to say. He was inwardly relieved that Mrs. B didn't have anything to do with altering those documents. If she had and BA found out, he doubted that all of them together could stop the Sergeant from tearing Spencer apart limb from limb. "It makes sense. Since he's in charge of security, he could easily make the items disappear from storage, then simply alter the lists to make it seem like it got shipped off to somewhere legit. No one's the wiser," the cunning strategist related, believing that he had Spencer pretty well pegged by now. He looked directly at Face as one big question begged to be asked, "Did you get proof?"

Face reached into one of the inside pockets of his suit coat and pulled out the tiny silver camera. He held it up and flashed his Commanding Officer a sly grin. The pictures he had taken would be enough to put Spencer away for a few years, but he'd likely have some slime ball lawyer get him out early for good behavior or even make the charges disappear. And once he got out, he'd set his sights on Mrs. B . . . which meant that they'd have to return to Chicago to protect her again.

Hannibal's face practically lit up with another grin. The Jazz was sparkling brightly within his crystal blue eyes. Things were definitely going better than he expected, especially since they did have evidence now. "Nice, Face. Did you find anything else?" the Colonel questioned. If Spencer seemed to keep records on all of his illegal activities, then there likely had to be more that they could use.

"Well," Face started to say thoughtfully. "I took this just on a hunch, but . . ." The blonde-haired Lieutenant pulled out the pen light and flicked it on, and then reached into the coat pocket and pulled out the flyer he had grabbed from earlier. He unfolded it for the others to see, and shone the small flashlight upon it. "I'm not sure what this was doing in his safe. It's kind of weird that he'd put something like this in there, especially when the Museum is listed as a sponsor."

The West Point graduate moved over to study the flyer that Face had unfurled. He carefully looked at the information on there as it certainly wasn't what he had expected. "Hmmmm . . . interesting," Hannibal mused.

Murdock got up from where he had been sitting and wandered over to also look at the poster that his best friend had produced. He studied the poster, somewhat surprised that something like that would have been in a safe. It looked like it was going to be such an ordinary event. "Ya know, I think I remember hearin' 'bout this on the news. Some kind of dedication ceremony for a place called Block 37 at the corner of Washington and State, right 'cross from Marshall Fields. It used to have some stores, and now they're turnin' it into an ice rink. Scott Hamilton's gonna be there. Wasn't he the gold medalist at the 1984 winter Olympics?" He looked at the Colonel after asking that question, since he seemed to have more knowledge when it came to ice skating.

"He sure was," Hannibal replied, keeping his attention focused on the flyer to see if there was anything remotely out of the ordinary. A grin crossed his face as his observant gaze found what might be the binding tie. "Look at this, guys. The Mayor of Chicago will be there to open the rink to the public for the first time, and his picture has been circled. Now why do you think Spencer would have done that?"

"Maybe he was practicing his art?" Face cracked, trying to find a bit of humor in all of this. Truthfully, though, the circle drawn around the Mayor wasn't done very well. Picasso could have done much better with his eyes closed compared to Spencer Jackson.

"No, this seems to be much bigger," Colonel Smith noted thoughtfully as he considered the possibilities. That flyer that his Lieutenant found just helped to complete the puzzle and told him exactly what was going on. Now that he had all of the elements, his mind started working overtime as he developed a plan. Turning back to the young con artist, he noted, "While you were playing safe cracker, Spencer was being a polite host to an assassin . . . and I'll bet you a year's supply of cigars that the Mayor is the target."

"That could be what he meant by a demonstration," Face added thoughtfully, recalling the conversation at the penthouse suite regarding the recorded phone call that they picked up over the bugs. It was starting to all make sense now. "He gets an experimental weapon, ships it through the Museum and finds a buyer . . ."

"Our Italian mobster," Murdock quickly pointed out as he too was starting to figure out what was going on. He definitely was not liking where it was going and knew that they'd have to do something about it for sure. The only question was . . . what was Hannibal's plan going to entail, exactly, so they could nab Spencer and Kramer red handed, wrap both of them up nicely with a red bow, and deliver them straight into the arms of the authorities.

"But Scarlotti refuses to buy without a demonstration of the weapon's capabilities . . . a very public demonstration that's likely to have a lot of media coverage and bound to make front page news, even in Italy," Hannibal surmised as he pointed a finger directly at the poster.

"You don't think . . ." Face started to say, his voice trailing off as he looked directly at his Commanding Officer. Their eyes connected for a moment, almost as if trying to seek confirmation. "You don't think that they're gonna use this demonstration to kill the Mayor, do you?"

The Colonel let out a sigh and nodded his head. "Yeah . . . I do," he admitted solemnly. It was times like this that he hated being right or having such a good insight into how sleaze balls like Spencer operated. That dedication ceremony was going to be in a very public place, with a lot of people around, which increased the possibility that innocent civilians could get hurt. And if they started using guns . . . just one shot and an all out panic would likely ensue. That didn't even include the fact that, with the Mayor there, the place was likely going to be crawling with cops. Those challenges were going to make the application of his plan interesting and fun . . .

Reaching into the pocket of the parka, Hannibal pulled out the papers he had acquired earlier and unfolded them. "While BA and Murdock were dealing with the guards, I managed to grab these from Spencer in the basement before getting out of there," he shared.

Face folded up the flyer from the dedication ceremony and stuffed it into the pocket of his parka, and then hid the camera back in his suit coat again. He glanced over the pages that Hannibal pulled out . . . something that looked like a map, as well as a blueprint of some kind of a device. Although they had used terrain maps in Vietnam to help plan out various missions and patrols, what he saw was nothing like what he was familiar with.

The Texan got a good look at the map for the first time and let out a low, shrill whistle. He recognized the markings on the map immediately as being similar to what had been used in the briefings during the two top secret missions he had to carry out while in Vietnam. "Whoa! These are detailed charts, kimosabe. Exact locations of where key people will be positioned, various places where Kramer could set up and lines of fire from each. He could set up in any of these spots, fire the killing shot, and blend in with the crowd as he escapes," he noted. A sudden realization struck him the moment he said that. Spencer clearly knew what he was doing to come up with a map like what he was looking at . . . which meant that he likely had some kind of a background with the CIA, NSA, DXS, FBI, or any other number of agencies.

Templeton Peck looked over to the pilot, finding it hard to believe. How could his best friend have knowledge about something like that? Now wasn't the time to ask about how he knew that information. That could come another time, but he thought it best to seek confirmation anyways. "You sure about that, Murdock?"

"Absolutely," he affirmed before he started to look over the blueprints. His warm brown eyes widened as he recognized what he saw. "Colonel, I've heard about this weapon . . . the X-20 . . . hottest thing on the black market right now. Totally experimental assault rifle with a higher firing rate than the M-16, a miniature rocket grenade launcher, and a laser gun. Seems right out of Star Wars, but it works and it's deadly," Murdock revealed.

"Right, Captain, which is exactly why it's up to us to throw a wrench into Spencer's works. And, according to the flyer, the ceremony is taking place at noon tomorrow." The silver-white haired leader pulled back the left sleeve of his parka slightly to reveal the watch on his inside wrist, and glanced at the time. "That's a little over thirteen hours from now."

"Why do we always have to cut these things so close?" Face complained, almost to the point where it seemed pretty close to whining. He was about to say more when he felt a hand touch his arm. He looked down and traced the hand back to the Colonel, whose gaze was captivated on the door to the silent movie house. That touch was a message . . . that he had obviously heard something and needed immediate silence from his men.

Stealthily, Hannibal moved closer to the door, making sure to stay low and out of the line of sight. Once he was close enough, he eased himself up to where he could peek through the small window, and then immediately crouched back down. "Someone's coming," he whispered as he returned to the front of the theater, where his men had also crouched down in the aisles.

Murdock and Face exchanged glances in the darkened theater before folding up the map and blueprints. They had gotten lucky with hiding out where they had for a while, but it almost seemed like their luck had just ran out. They needed an escape plan, otherwise there was no way that Hannibal could carry out any kind of plan to stop Spencer Jackson. They both looked at their Commanding Officer expectantly as Face whispered, "What's the plan, Hannibal?"