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 53 Check and Double Check
"Make sure the job is done. No survivors, Hanson," Jackson growled as the two men stood beside the Colonel's rental car. "I'll see you at the mine to make sure . . . and I'll have your money when I come."
"There won't be any problems with Cazador or the pilot. Warner was easy to take care of. How much more difficult can these two be?" The assassin flicked his cigarette butt on the dirt and ground it out with the toe of his shoe.
"Besides being a Vietnam veteran, Captain Murdock was CIA. Not into the same type of jobs you were into but he has a sixth sense about things. Don't underestimate him, Hanson. Make sure Cazador's death is quick and clean so he doesn't suspect anything until he lands."
Something about the way Jackson said those words made the ex-CIA agent bristle with anger. Who does Jackson think he's talking to? I'm not some neophyte at this.
Hanson watched Colonel Jackson get in his rental car and leave the ranch, raising dust behind him. He smirked to himself.
Fifteen thousand dollars to kill three men was a sweet deal. He had no doubt Jackson's superiors would be more than willing to pay that amount and have loose ends removed from an operation gone south.
Hell, I could have asked for more and they may have paid. But I can't press my luck too far with Jackson.
He crossed the airstrip and ducked in the doorway to the hangar. Cazador and Captain Murdock seemed to be engaged in light conversation. Hanson heard the businessman's voice first.
"And my youngest grandson . . . only ten years old and already sure he's going to be a pilot with the Thunderbirds when he graduates." Cazador nudged the Captain and grinned. "Sometimes I let him be my honorary co-pilot when I fly the Lucky Lady on non-business flights."
"You're a good grandfather, Mister Cazador. Encouragin' a young flyer's dreams . . . makes all th' diff'rence in th' world." The pilot smiled his approval and sipped his whiskey.
As he approached the two men he was hired to eliminate, the ex-CIA agent noticed Murdock had a glass full of amber liquid and ice. He seemed to be taking his time drinking it.
"You were with the Thunderbirds, weren't you, Captain? Team leader if I remember right from your file." Cazador was so engaged in their conversation he did not notice Hanson at first. But Murdock did.
He answered the businessman without the enthusiasm of a few seconds before. "Yeah, that's right. Some o' th' best times o' my life were with them." He swirled the whiskey in the glass as he warily scrutinized the man coming toward them.
Murdock's intense stare pierced the agent's cold-hearted confidence. Hanson got the uncomfortable idea that the pilot knew exactly who he was and what he had done in his past work for the Company. That made the pilot dangerous. He would have to catch him unaware. But he got the uncanny feeling Murdock suspected something wasn't right and would be guarding against any attack. Maybe even to the point of laying down his own life to save Cazador.
As soon as he noticed Hanson's equally sharp analysis, the pilot drained his glass and set it down. The ice cubes clinked together and collapsed as he locked his gaze on the assistant's eyes.
"Ah, there you are, Hanson. Everything ready on the other end?" When Hanson nodded, Cazador took Murdock by the arm to guide him out of the hangar. He did not notice the two men glare at each other when they passed.
"If all goes well, I may offer you a job as my personal pilot and unofficial flight instructor for my grandson." Cazador chuckled. "Let's do that pre-flight check, Captain, and then we can be off."
oooooo
Murdock didn't like the feeling of having Hanson behind him escorting Cazador and him to the Lucky Lady. Something about the man sent the pilot's internal alarms off the meter. It didn't help that he believed the personal assistant to be a CIA plant. Nothing about the CIA made Murdock comfortable.
I said I'd never work for them 'gain. 'N' now here I am.
At least Jackson was nowhere to be seen. The Colonel made as many gut-wrenching alarms go off inside Murdock as Hanson did. Why, he didn't know. He had worked with the Colonel over in Nam but he didn't remember all the details of their missions together.
That bothered him. It was like certain memories hovered as misty specters in the perimeter of his mind. Any attempt he made to see them more clearly caused them to fade away and disappear. He was certain some involved the murder of civilians suspected of being VC informants but whether Jackson or he had a part in the actual killings, he didn't remember.
He wondered if Cazador knew he was working with the CIA. Would that change the man's welcoming attitude toward him? He didn't want anything to change that.
It was easy for Murdock to like the Tucson businessman. He loved flying as much as Murdock did and he was a good grandfather, if the level of pride and happiness expressed in his words about his grandchildren indicated anything.
At least Murdock didn't have to think unusually hard to remember how to run a pre-flight check on the Lucky Lady.
As he did the walk-around of the plane, he instinctively knew Hanson's gaze followed him. The awareness gave him jitters.
When he got up on the stepladder to check the fuel level in the left wing tank and sample whether the fuel had water in it, he sensed the assistant approach the base of the ladder.
"Mister Cazador has men that take care of this plane like it's a newborn baby. They've done all of this, Captain. You're wasting time." Hanson's tone hinted of more than impatience.
Murdock's muscles tensed under the hostility he heard in the voice.
"I gave Captain Murdock my approval to check the Lucky Lady as thoroughly as he saw fit. Are you not concerned for our safety, Mister Hanson?" Cazador's disapproving voice silenced the assistant.
That's a good question. Hanson sure seems like he ain' worried 'bout nothin' but gettin' up in th' air quick as we can.
He took his time checking the ailerons and flaps of both wings to make sure they moved freely. He double-checked everything. Hanson was right. The Lucky Lady was in perfect condition. Why did he feel so uneasy?
His intuition had never been wrong. When he felt this way it was wise to take every precaution before he did anything. That included flying. Especially flying.
He had too many experiences with crashes due to equipment failure and enemy gunfire to get in the air when his internal alarm bells were almost deafening him.
He stood at the nose of the Cessna looking up at its propellor and air intake vents. Even though Hanson might assume he was checking one more thing on the plane, Murdock wasn't. He was trying instead to calm his mind and get a feeling for what exactly was wrong. Then it came to him.
There ain' nothin' wrong but th' company me 'n' Mister Cazador have t' take 'long with us. It ain' th' Lady; it's Hanson.
How could he tell the businessman his personal assistant was up to something that might prove fatal to both of them? Especially when it involved his instincts and not any provable sabotage on the plane.
Letting out a sigh, he realized he could not delay the flight any longer. He nodded his approval to Cazador who smiled and gave a thumbs-up sign. "Shall we, Captain?" the businessman asked, gesturing toward the cockpit of the plane.
As Murdock joined Cazador, he glanced at Hanson. The assistant's hand was balled up inside his jacket pocket. The man's jacket bulged near the shoulder with what the pilot sensed was a gun.
Hanson would have a gun with 'im if he's Mister Cazador's personal bodyguard. But why don' that make me feel any safer?
Murdock opened the pilot's door and settled into the seat. Seconds later he flinched when the copilot's door unexpectedly opened. He flashed an apprehensive glance to his right and breathed in a calming breath when Cazador climbed up into the seat.
Mistaking Murdock's look for puzzlement, the businessman explained. "I wanted to sit up here and talk about the Lady and see what you thought about her." He clapped the pilot on the shoulder and got into his seat, buckling himself in. "Besides," he added with a chuckle, "the view from this seat even when I'm not the one flying is so much better than from back there. We'll leave the passengers' area for Mister Hanson to check out."
"Sounds good t' me, Mister Cazador." Murdock shuddered at the haunting premonition of a fiery crash that appeared out of nowhere in his mind.
Is that what's gonna happen if Hanson does what I think he's gonna try t' do? I can' let 'im do that. I won' let 'im do it.
"Beautiful day for flying. Whenever you're ready, Captain." Cazador leaned back in his seat and viewed the airstrip in front of them through half-closed eyes. He was the picture of relaxation. The man beside him in the pilot's seat was anything but relaxed.
Murdock swallowed. He slipped on the headset and began to taxi the Lady. Even though Jackson told him to insert an ear bud in his ear under the headset and turn on the radio, he couldn't. It would be difficult enough to keep one eye open for trouble from Hanson and still fly the plane.
Maybe with Mister Cazador up here with me, Hanson won' try anythin'. I'm sure he doesn' wanna be in a plane crash any more 'n I do.
With that thought Murdock increased the Lady's speed on the runway and lifted the Cessna's nose into the air.
oooooo
Face kept his ears open for any sign of anyone outside the plane. He knew his friend would likely do a thorough job checking to make sure this plane was in condition to fly. Maybe if Murdock came into the passenger's cabin alone, he could somehow get the opportunity to let him know he was still alive.
It might make the job of convincing him to abort this mission easier for me.
He knew he had to override whatever Jackson programmed into Murdock's brain.
At least, I hope I can.
He heard Cazador's own men finish preparations for the plane to be flown.
All was silent for several minutes. He strained to hear what would happen next.
Then through the open cargo door, Face heard someone approaching the plane. The grit on the airstrip crunched under at least two pair of feet.
One person walked around the plane. Parts of the aircraft were being touched and manipulated, tested to see that they worked properly. Metal scraped against the tarmac outside to Face's left. Gripping his gun and holding his breath, the con man distinguished two voices.
The first was deep and threatening. "Mister Cazador has men that take care of this plane like it's a newborn baby. They've done all of this, Captain. You're wasting time."
Okay. So that can't be Cazador. And it isn't Murdock either, so who is it?
"I gave Captain Murdock my approval to check the Lucky Lady as thoroughly as he saw fit. Are you not concerned for our safety, Mister Hanson?"
That has to be Cazador. So the guy that sounds like he's pushing Murdock to get into the air has to be the other guy that was with him and Jackson in the Sonoita café. Hannibal didn't expect there would be another passenger. It'll make my job harder if this guy's armed.
Someone was boarding the plane. Face peeked out to see what was happening, making sure he made no sound to call attention to his hiding place in the back of the passenger compartment.
A well-muscled man wearing a dark brown suit jacket entered the space and found a seat on the left and close to the back where Face was. The cabin door closed, abruptly shutting off the sunlight.
The con man held his breath, wishing the passenger had found a different place to sit. If he moved at all, he would be discovered.
Another door opened closer to the front and on the right. He heard Cazador's and Murdock's voices but ignored what they were saying. He was too busy trying to figure out how to get past the man Cazador had called Hanson.
Seconds later, he realized he didn't have to worry about that at all. Hanson, seeing that Cazador seated himself alongside Murdock in the cockpit of the Cessna, stood and made his way closer to the partial partition between the cockpit and the passenger's cabin.
At the same time, he heard the plane's engine come to life and felt movement.
Hannibal's voice crackled over the ear bud in his ear. "Face, if you can hear me, watch that guy in the back. Stafford tells me that's the personal assistant Hanson and he may be there to ensure Cazador isn't alive when the plane crashes. You may have to move quickly to stop both him and Murdock."
For the second time since Face gained access to the airstrip, he wished he had a means to communicate with his CO.
If I can't stop Murdock in time, it would be nice to say goodbye to Amy.
He measured the distance between himself and Hanson and readied himself to spring into action should the man make a move. Face had a feeling he would not have to wait long.