44 Sleeping Beauty

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Hannibal finished taping Face's ribs and stepped away from the bed to allow his young actress friend to take over. The con man looked peaceful as he slept, blissfully unaware of the medical treatment he had received in the last half hour.

B. A. would have enjoyed seeing someone else getting that stuff for once.

"You aren't going to have any trouble with our sleeping beauty, are you, Melody?" The older man smirked as he watched her pull the sheet and coverlet up to the middle of the Lieutenant's bare chest. She gave the con man a light kiss on the cheek before turning to respond.

"I don't know. Maybe, if he wakes up before you get back. He isn't going to like what you did to make him stay here." Her amused eyes met Hannibal's and they grinned at each other.

"Yeah, well, that couldn't be helped. I'll give him back his clothes as soon as I get back. If there's any problems, you know where they are." Hannibal patted his white doctor's lab coat for a cigar and sighed when he found none.

Ah well. I guess where I'm going I'd blow my disguise if I had the smell of a cigar on me when I got there.

She nodded and absently touched her head where the Colonel had closed a two-inch long gash. Sucking in a sharp breath, she winced.

"How's your head?" Hands on her shoulders, he held her at arms' length to scrutinize her condition.

"It's been better. But you did a good job patching it up . . . doctor." She gazed into Hannibal's eyes, an apology on her lips. "Look. I really am sorry about Jack. I didn't know he was going to use me to find you."

"Like I said, Mel. It's spilled milk. One thing you have to know about us. We're no strangers to scum like Jack. We'll just tack him on the end of our list of people not to invite to our next office party." He thought a moment and added with a grin, "It's a rather long list."

He took out a Walther PPK handgun from the bag of supplies and checked the cartridge. Pressing it into her hand, he raised a questioning eyebrow.

Hefting the small gun in her hand, she said, "Don't worry. I frequented the shooting range as soon as I knew I had a stalker on my trail a couple of weeks ago. I can hit the target at fifteen yards."

Hannibal nodded his approval. "Kind of thought so." He gestured toward the bedside table. "Face's gun is in there in case you're under attack."

She frowned and gave the sleeping Lieutenant another glance. "He won't be able to use it if he's unconscious."

"I'm sure we're hidden from the road enough that nothing will happen. If he wakes up and needs it, you know where it is." Hannibal sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I don't like this any better than you but we don't have much of a choice."

She surprised him when she stroked his face with one hand and kissed him on the cheek. "We'll be fine, John. Now you go and check on your men, find out if Murdock's okay. We'll be fine."

He paused at the door before opening it. "I'll call as soon as I know something. You know the signal."

"You'll let it ring three times, hang up, wait three minutes, then call again."

"Keep this door locked and the lights out. I already made an excuse at the office about being a married man and having to keep anyone from knowing you and I are here. I'm pretty sure they didn't see Face. The additional money I gave them will keep our secret hideaway secret." He took one last look at the sleeping Lieutenant. "Oh, and don't let him con you into hopping into bed with him. Remember how well he isn't dressed. Until Murdock and B. A.'s back with us and we know Jack and his men are out of the way, we have to treat you as a client. That means he can't get distracted."

"I understand, John. I'll distract him only to keep him from following you. If he wakes up." She gave him a bittersweet smile as she relaxed into the armchair beside the bed and gazed at the con man's face.

"Good girl." Hannibal pushed out the door and closed it, checking it to be sure it had locked behind him.

The Colonel's mind swirled with doubt as he drove the quiet road back to Alturas. He hoped Jack hadn't sent his men to the emergency room in Alturas to check if anyone had been in a recent car accident. Murdock's other injuries, the concussion that made the pupils of the pilot's eyes unevenly dilated, would not be mistaken for an accidentally discharged gun.

Hannibal parked the van in the parking area for the city park and walked. The five minutes he spent in the rain-refreshed air cleared his head. By the time he came to the front door of the medical center, he had rehearsed what he would do if there was trouble.

He breezed through the door as if he belonged there and strolled to the nurses' station. Nonchalantly adjusting the stethoscope around his neck, he scanned the patients' charts, all four of them, until he found the one for Henry Merchand.

Room 6.

Holding the chart in one hand and clicking a ballpoint pen in his other, he headed for the patients' rooms. According to the chart, they brought Murdock to his room after surgery on his arm about a half hour ago.

He read as he walked.

If I'm right, the surgery looks like it went well. He's receiving Ringer's lactate, whole blood and a chemical cocktail of painkillers and antibiotics.

One thing quickened his pace.

And he's conscious but delirious.