Every Thought Captive
AN: The song Murdock has playing in his mind is Buffalo Springfield's "For What It's Worth." It came to be known as a Vietnam War protest song although Stephen Stills, the songwriter, originally wrote it as a observation about a conflict between law enforcement and youth on Sunset Strip.
Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.
Chapter 25 Ain't Exactly Clear
"You did an excellent job, Captain. Your country is grateful for your loyalty and service." Jackson clapped the test subject on the shoulder and gave him a pleased smile. Murdock sensed something disturbing behind the actions.
What'd I give 'im that was so 'portant? He's lookin' at me like I'm the winnin' ticket in th' lottery.
"That was part o' th' mission? Those guys loadin' weapons inta those crates?" The pilot grimaced at the sheer intensity of his headache. He slipped one trembling hand over his closed eyes and took a deep breath.
Don' 'member the pain bein' quite this bad when I did this b'fore.
"Yes. You remembered so much of your remote viewing training from years ago, I thought you were ready to become acquainted with the contents of the shipments you will be in charge of stopping."
Murdock nodded thoughtfully and scanned the Colonel's face for any hint of deception. Faint traces of Billy's warning echoed in his mind.
Don' b'lieve 'im, brother. He lied t' you b'fore.
The pain in his head muddled his thinking.
Maybe I'm jus' 'maginin' Billy's voice.
"Mister Nappler?" Jackson walked to the door and poked his head out. "Would you please take Captain Murdock to the dowsing room? He needs to interpret his remote viewing session. Then you may go back to Doctor Wendling."
Colonel Jackson placed his arm around Murdock's thin shoulders in a supportive manner. "Here. Let me help you."
The pilot slung his arm around the other man's waist as the military man lifted him to his feet. As Murdock staggered to a waiting wheelchair with Jackson's help he muttered, "Thanks. 'Preciate it."
He couldn't eliminate the nagging thought that this man who was helping him wasn't as concerned for his well-being as he was letting on.
Mus' be my intermitten' memory loss comin' inta play. There's somethin' 'bout this guy I'm not 'memberin'.
Nappler had him at the door of the dowsing room before he could give it much thought. Opening the door and backing him into the room, the lab assistant gave him an apprehensive look before hurrying down the hallway.
Jackson slid the sketch Murdock had done into his hands.
"Okay. You know the routine. Begin with your sketch, describe everything you saw and why you wrote the words you did. Write down your interpretation and I'll go see if I can find us a couple of cups of coffee. Maybe it'll take that headache down a notch or two." The Colonel paused until he saw the pilot begin to frown at the paper in his hand and write some words. Then he left the room.
Murdock let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. There was something about the man that left that was not quite right.
There was something wrong with his own head, too. He snorted at that thought.
Been somethin' wrong with my head since b'fore Nam. Nam jus' made it a whole lot more wrong. How's it any diff'rent now?
But there was something wrong and it was causing him anxiety. For one thing, Billy usually talked to him much more than he was right now. Something was muffling Billy's voice, almost like his brain had been stuffed with straw and Billy was speaking from the middle of it.
Then there were the men that served with him in Nam. They were part of the initial things he had to do to complete Project Silent Arrow. If Jackson relayed what he was to do with them sometime during the session, he had forgotten that part of the plan.
All he knew for certain was that they could not be trusted. If they made contact with him ever again, he would have to be careful around them.
Turning his attention back to the paper in his hands, he sighed. A song was playing in his mind and its lyrics were unsettling because he sensed they applied to the current situation.
There's somethin' happenin' here
What it is ain't exactly clear
There's a man with a gun, over there
Tellin' me I got to beware
(I think it's time we)
Stop, children, what's that sound?
Everybody look - what's goin' down?
oooooo
As he returned from the break room with two ceramic cups with steaming coffee in them, Jackson reflected on how much had been accomplished. He was well on the way to convincing Murdock to switch his allegiance from his fellow A-team members to him. He blocked some of the memories that had the potential to obstruct the mission. He implanted two sets of instructions for the pilot to follow when he left the facility.
If he wasn't concerned about the lasting power of the hypnotic suggestions he had placed, he would almost consider letting Murdock dispose of Cazador in some other way. But the wheels had been set in motion and all that was necessary was for the Captain's friends to help him escape. General Brandler had said he didn't want to know how Cazador was stopped and the weapons recovered, just that it was accomplished.
Anything you say, Brandler. It may not be according to your time frame but it will be done before deadline.
Jackson passed the door to Laboratory Two and paused to "read" whether the four men were still there. He frowned as he determined one of the occupants of the room had left.
Which one?
It required time to determine who it was and he sensed he did not have much more time. Thinking about it, he decided it would not really make much difference. Except for one or two minor instructions Murdock had to receive, the test subject was ready for his team mates to "rescue" him.
As he continued on to the dowsing room, Jackson directed his mind to the pilot. Detecting the words to the song haunting Murdock's thoughts, he smiled.
I returned just in time. In the next half hour or so I have so much more to do and I can't have Murdock thinking those kinds of thoughts.
He pushed open the door and smiled down at the troubled man in the wheelchair. "Here's your coffee. It's strong enough to jolt an elephant back to life, but it's coffee. Now what have you come up with?"
After handing the cup to Murdock, Jackson took a seat beside him.
I'm less intimidating that way, more like a friend.
He took a sip from his cup as the pilot began to explain his sketch and interpretation.
"So the notation you made here . . . " Jackson pointed to the string of numbers and letters. ". . . you believe refers to the site where the weapons are being stored and crated before loading on the chopper at the ranch?"
"I think if we looked on a map o' th' United States, we'd see it's th' latitude 'n' longitude of that place." Murdock nodded his agreement, then winced as the movement sent a jolt of almost electrical pain through his head.
This is better than I expected. If he's right, Murdock has the exact location of Cazador's weapons storage site. Wouldn't take much to make that place disappear from the face of the Earth.
"Well, here's a map. Let's see what we've got." Jackson took out a map and put it in the pilot's hands. "Go ahead, Captain. It was your discovery. You should have the opportunity to see where this place is."
Murdock quickly scanned the map in front of him and ran his pointer finger along the coordinates. "Looks t' be somewhere in Arizona. Somewhere 'round Tucson, maybe Tombstone, area."
Makes sense. Cazador has an office for his import business in Tucson.
The Captain glanced at Jackson and took a sip of his coffee. "Ya weren' kiddin' 'bout that coffee, were ya?" He shuddered and put the cup down. "We need a USGS topographic map o' Arizona. Here, use th' coordinates t' find it."
The military man nodded curtly and took the paper with the numbers. Pulling the map Murdock required from the map file cabinet, he pressed it into the pilot's hands and waited.
"Th' Narrows, huh? Okay." The man in the wheelchair frowned at the map and tapped it with one finger. "Only place on this map looks like it could be where those weapons are is right here. Mine site called th' Total Wreck. Empire Mountains. Looks t' be seven 'r eight ranches in th' area." He set the map on a small table in front of him and ran a hand across his forehead and over his right eye. "Damn headache won' go 'way, Colonel."
"It's likely because we did two sessions today instead of one." Jackson patted Murdock on the shoulder. "But if I didn't think you could handle it I wouldn't have had you do two. I'll bring you back to your room to get some rest now. I've got a pair of ear buds and a small transistor radio you can use. Programmed to get only one station but it's soothing music and it should help you relax."
"Rest'd be real nice 'bout now. Maybe three aspirin, too? Maximum strength." The Captain squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the arms of the wheelchair as another piercing pain shot through his head.
"I'll see what I can dig up for you," Jackson murmured as he transported the pilot through the hallway to Room 27.
oooooo
Hannibal frowned at Doctor Stafford. "What do you mean 'What have I done?', Doc?"
Stafford paled slightly. This wasn't Jackson asking him the question. These two men would never know if he didn't tell them everything. Knowing what he did about Jackson and the goal of the project, he decided for his own safety, he needed to keep some things secret. No telling what these two or their big black friend would do to him if they knew.
But for the sake of preserving his test subject and the device he had implanted in his subject's brain, he wanted to cooperate as fully as he could. He had to find out what Jackson did during the session. Maybe he could reprogram the Captain to complete the mission without sacrificing himself if he got him away from Granite Peak. Then afterwards he could find a place where he could continue to develop the pilot into a first class espionage tool.
"Oh, nothing. I was just wishing Jackson wasn't involved in this project. He'll be the one that you have to stay away from if you want to get your friend out of here." Stafford gazed from one angry man to the other. "Remember I said he may have something against your friend? I now believe he wants your friend dead."
oooooo
"You can keep the ear buds and the radio if they help your headaches to go away. I remember how bad they can be." Jackson peered at Murdock as he settled his head back onto the pillow and threw one arm over his eyes to shut out the light. The pilot seemed to be trusting him a little more than he had before. "I'm going to see if I can run down those maximum strength aspirin for you, okay?"
Murdock nodded, his jaw clenched against the continuing throbbing pain.
"Lights on or off?"
"Off, if ya don' mind. Light seems t' be hurtin' my eyes somethin' fierce."
"Okay." Jackson flicked off the light switch, plunging the room into total darkness. "You're sure you don't need a little light?"
"Leave th' door open a crack 'n' I'll be jus' fine," Murdock mumbled.
The Colonel put the doorstop down to allow an inch crack of light from the hallway to enter the room.
He hesitated for a moment outside the door. When he was certain Murdock's thoughts were relaxing into a restful state and he was not thinking of escape, he disappeared into the next room.
In his pocket, he held the device that would test the neuroelectromagnetic implant. Waiting a few seconds until he sensed the pilot was asleep, he pressed the button and listened for the reaction he hoped would follow.