Every Thought Captive
Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.
Chapter 19 Let the Crazy Out
"Why'd ya come in here? T' tell me that? T' gloat over me 'cause ya think ya got me 'tween a rock 'n' a hard place?"
As soon as Face heard Murdock's voice, he sat straighter in the metal folding chair. Even though they were a distance away, the words and the anger came through loud and clear.
"Did you hear that, Hannibal? That sounds like Murdock!" Face strained to listen for more. It was somewhat of a relief to hear his friend's anger and not the frantic heartrending pleas from hours before. They were no closer to rescuing him from his captors but at least he knew the pilot had not been broken.
"I heard him."
"I wonder what kind of mission our turncoat doctor and the government wants him to do. It can't be good if that Colonel Jackson has to force him." Face turned to look at Hannibal who was eyeballing the door and thinking.
He couldn't ponder the answer to Face's question right now. The first order of business in any situation like this was to escape as soon as possible.
Since Jackson departed, they had been left alone in the room. Hannibal was certain there would be at least two guards outside. He also knew they would not easily fall for any ruses the two men might enact to escape. At least he didn't think they would. You never knew. Sometimes these military types had very little imagination. He had to hope for that.
The next sound Face and Hannibal heard made the Lieutenant's stomach churn. From wherever the distant room was located came a manic laugh that sounded remarkably like Woody Woodpecker himself. Had Murdock gone crazy? Or was this a way of coping when the enemy pressed in?
"Whatever the mission is, he's not doing it willingly. And what kind of things is Stafford doing to prepare him?" The Lieutenant shifted in his chair.
"I don't know but if we're going to have any chance to help him escape, we have to escape ourselves. Before Lynch arrives to escort us to a room with iron bars, I suggest we figure out a way to get out of these cuffs." Hannibal's voice was barely above a whisper. "Do you still have your lock-picking kit on you?"
"I'm afraid they took that along with the weapons. But the good news is they didn't check inside the top of my right sock and our captors didn't know what they were doing when they put these on us. You never cuff someone with their palms touching and you always double lock." Face knelt on the floor and felt around the top of his sock with his fingers. "Aha!"
Stumbling back onto his feet, Face backed up to Hannibal and showed him half of a bobby pin, the rubber tip removed. "I had a feeling this might come in handy sometime. Never leave home without a backup lock-picking device hidden somewhere on your person."
"A bobby pin?"
"Compliments of Aubrey Michele, my date to the L. A. Philharmonic concert at the Hollywood Bowl last August. I'm afraid she forgot it between the couch cushions when she left my place that night."
"Ah." The Colonel frowned and shook his head at the mental images the confession put in his mind. "The same Aubrey Michele who was my costar in 'Birth of the Aquamaniac?' I don't think I want or need to know more."
The Lieutenant shrugged and flashed him a dazzling apologetic smile before getting to work to free them.
It took several minutes of maneuvering, back to back, before one of Hannibal's cuffs released. When it did, Face transferred the bobby pin to the Colonel's hand to undo the other cuff and then those binding the Lieutenant.
"Face, you are an artist." Hannibal grinned as he rubbed the chafed skin around his wrists.
"Practice makes perfect. Now what, Colonel?" Face asked.
"Now we stage a medical emergency to bring the guards in here and we show them the right way to cuff someone. And then we go find Murdock and get out of here."
oooooo
"What the hell did you do to Captain Murdock, Doctor?" Colonel Jackson peered at the scientist he had managed to corner in the hallway.
"What do you mean what did I do?" Stafford stuffed his hands in his pockets and hunched before the military man's hostile question. Jackson noticed the doctor's expression changed from elated and triumphant to guarded and evasive. He would not meet the Colonel's eyes.
"The test subject has a bandage on his head." Jackson decided to see if the doctor would willingly divulge the information.
And if he doesn't? He should know my psychic capabilities by now to not even try that.
"Oh, that." Stafford leaned against the wall and attempted to appear nonchalant. "I'm afraid Captain Murdock tried to get up too quickly after the remote viewing session. When I came to Room 14 to prepare him, I found him unconscious on the floor with a gash above his ear. I stitched it up."
He's lying. No matter. I can get the truth out of him.
The Colonel focused his gaze on the man in front of him, pinning him to the wall like a specimen under glass with his coal black eyes. "You're lying." Jackson scowled at the doctor. "You are aware I can and will have you removed from this project if you don't cooperate."
Stafford removed his glasses and nervously polished them with the hem of his lab coat. "You can't do that. I'm the lead scientist."
"Try me. Now if you don't mind, tell me what you did and what you were hoping to accomplish by doing it, Doctor." His voice was a low menacing growl.
The scientist frowned at the Colonel and replaced his glasses on his nose before speaking.
"I was the lead scientist for another CIA project before I came to work on Project Silent Arrow. I had successfully used the device on chimpanzees. The funding dried up for the project before I could run the tests on human subjects. The money was diverted here for this." The last sentence was delivered in a bitter tone.
"What kind of device?" Jackson knew the government had been working on new ways to do surveillance both remotely and on the field, methods that would protect the agent from discovery. That, in essence, was what Project Silent Arrow was all about.
But funding had also been earmarked for development of mind control methods, the types of things that would allow an agent to "persuade" an enemy to do things beneficial to the United States cause. Things like making a major mistake in an arms deal leading to arrest and confiscation of the arms. Or getting the enemy to commit suicide. The agent wouldn't actually have to be on the scene. The government would be absolved of all involvement.
Stafford peered at the man standing in front of him. The doctor's wariness was commendable.
But a hindrance. If he's developed what I think he has, I might have the means by which to rid myself of any threat of my part in Phoenix ever being known.
The scientist glanced up and down the hallway. "Maybe it would be better if we spoke in a more discreet location?"
It must be something big. The man is practically ready to explode with pride. He wants to share the secret if only to boast about his accomplishment. The man's weakness works to my advantage.
Jackson took Stafford by the elbow and guided him to Room 27, currently unoccupied.
oooooo
Murdock heard someone whistling "Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah" to the accompaniment of squeaking wheels. The door opened. The white-coated lab assistant . . . Rollag, he remembered Jackson called him . . . backed into the room with a wheelchair.
"Colonel Jackson sent me to get you for the next session." The assistant locked the brakes and gestured to the chair.
Kid's not t' blame for what he's bein' tol' t' do. But I can't do 'nother one. Not this soon. Not with Jackson there. 'Specially not with him monitorin' the session.
Murdock backed toward the wall. Maybe if he let the crazy out just enough to scare the kid, he could buy some time.
They always say if ya want t' pretend t' be 'fraid, ya gotta think o' somethin' that scares ya shitless 'n' act like it's right there in front o' you.
He let himself remember how he used to feel when Pa had him cornered in the barn. If he thought hard enough, he could almost hear Pa crunching the grit and straw under his boots and slurring his words as he hurled his hate-filled threats at Murdock.
Sometimes when he retreated into the darkest parts of his mind to avoid interviews with Colonel Lynch or questions from therapists other than Doctor Richter, he remembered way too well.
Jus' gotta make sure I don' 'scape inta the nightmare. No Doctor Richter here t' get me back 'gain if I do.
Murdock had no doubts that Jackson would employ painful ways of getting him back to reality. Maybe electroshock. Maybe an overdose of insulin to the point of producing a grand mal seizure. Maybe a chemical cocktail that would leave him weak and defenseless.
He knew all the tricks the psychiatric community had developed to stabilize mental patients. With most of them, he had intimate experience.
'N' if Jackson catches wind o' this memory, he'll use it t' control me. But if the Company's been watchin' me ever since I was a kid, he already knows 'nough t' hurt me pretty bad.
For now he had to prevent this remote viewing session from happening. And the only way he could see to accomplish that was to incapacitate himself, to make himself temporarily unusable.
I can always blame it on whatever that quack doctor did t' me. If I'm not in my right mind, they can't send me nowhere.
When he allowed his mind to return to his childhood, all the horror of his Pa's visits came back. Room 14 faded from his view, replaced by the dirt floor and stalls of his grandparent's barn. He was back in Texas.
He heard Pa's belt buckle being undone. The smell of hay and horse lather replaced the stench of stale liquor as the ghost from his past drew nearer. He continued to back away, the smells of the Sour Lake barn surrounding him. When he cast his frightened gaze on the person in the room, he saw his Pa.
"Number 47."
Murdock threw his arms up in front of his face to shield it from the slashes of the belt. At the same time, he allowed his knees to bend, sliding his back down along the wall until he sat on the floor in a tightly curled ball. He knew it wouldn't be long after the first few blows that Pa would throw the belt to the side and begin using his fists, feet and whatever other hard object he could find.
He waited, violently trembling as he did. His chest heaved with heavy short breaths of terror.
"I didn' tell 'em, Pa. I didn'. Yer secret's safe," he stammered. "Please, ya gotta b'lieve me."
"Captain Murdock, listen to me."
A hand gripped his shoulder and shook him. Every muscle tensed in his arms and legs. He gritted his teeth against the pain he knew would follow.
If I hit 'im back, I'll get worse 'n a outta joint shoulder.
He tightened his body even more into a small ball and rocked back and forth.
"Don' hurt me, don' hurt me, don' hurt me." The words tumbled out quicker and quicker. He was falling into the rabbit hole, leaving reality behind. He could no longer control the free-fall into the past.
Someone opened the door and rushed from the room, calling for help as he did.
He was alone with his terror.