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 54 'And Their Flying Machines'
Jackson hadn't gone far on the road leading away from the ranch before he stopped. From his rearview mirror he watched the cloudless sky behind him. He had to know exactly when he should begin sending the thought command to Captain Murdock's mind.
Impatiently drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he almost decided to turn around and find out what was holding up the flight.
Patience, Frank, patience. You haven't come this far to let a small delay make you jumpy.
He idly scanned Murdock's thoughts and sensed his unease. Sending a subliminal suggestion to the pilot's mind, he breathed out his relief when Murdock believed the thought and eyed Hanson with suspicion.
That's right, Captain. It isn't the plane or the job you're doing that's making you nervous. It's Hanson.
A few minutes later he saw the silvered glint of the sun off the Lady's wings as the Captain lifted her up in the air and pointed her nose toward the abandoned mine site.
oooooo
Hanson cursed silently when Cazador climbed into the seat alongside Captain Murdock. He should have known the Tucson businessman would do that, as much as the Vietnam vet and he seemed to enjoy conversing about flying.
There weren't any personal items Cazador needed to clear with the assistant either. No reason he had to be in the passenger's compartment with Hanson.
I didn't plan for this. Cazador never wanted to sit beside Warner when we made these runs before.
He could hear the two men chatting back and forth as the Captain navigated the Lucky Lady toward her destination.
The assassin had no choice but to move closer to the front where the two men were. As he did, he tried to plan his next move.
I could slice Cazador's throat easy and he'd never see it coming. That damned pilot would though. He might try to stop me. And who knows what he would do with his employer bleeding out all over the cockpit. I could try to lure Cazador back here but there's nothing we have to discuss. No, the quick way is the best way.
He overheard the businessman say, "That's the Red Cloud Mine Road . . . "
Hanson knew where that was. He had done his homework. He knew the name of every dirt road and goat trail around the weapons storage site.
We're almost there. If the men on the ground have been doing their jobs, the landing strip should be uncovered and visible from the air.
He smirked as the pilot said, "I'll getcha there, Mister Cazador. No problemo."
Ha! That's what you think, Captain Murdock. You'll be alive when we land, not Cazador, but after that . . .
oooooo
Jackson waited until the plane was a dot in the sky, then began the commands.
It's time for you to make sure Mister Cazador never arms the enemies of the United States again. You must destroy the weapons in that mine. Ammonia.
It was a simple word Jackson had lifted from Murdock's medical files, a word that the psychiatrists noted caused the pilot to become aggressive. The Colonel smiled at the irony of using something like that word to set Murdock on a course to his own death.
Something was not right, though. Was it the distance he was away from the Captain that was allowing the pilot to draw upon his reserves and fight the command?
Grunting his anger, Jackson furiously slammed the car's shifter into 'Drive' and sped down the dirt road. He would have to try to narrow the distance between himself and Murdock.
oooooo
The businessman in the cockpit pointed to a dusty road far below that passed between two mountainous ridges and announced, "That's the Red Cloud Mine Road. We'll be to our destination in about five minutes. I know it's a short distance by plane but it's a lot longer by land. That's why we fly the Lucky Lady to make our deliveries. The road's very rough. Four wheel drive vehicles only and even then . . . " The passenger chuckled with a small apologetic wave of his hand.
"I'll getcha there, Mister Cazador. No problemo." Murdock squinted down at the rosewood chaparral dotting one of the smaller hills, then let his gaze wander to the higher mountains at either side of the road his passenger pointed out.
Ugly place t' crash a plane but it'd be so easy t' do it, make it look like an accident.
He didn't understand why the thought emerged in his head but as soon as it did, every memory of every crash he had been in crowded in behind it. Under the stitched cut above his ear which Jackson said was from a fall . . . when'd I do that? I can' 'member . . . a sharp pain pierced his skull. It just about blinded him with its intensity and he groaned as it bored deeply and numbed him to everything else around him.
He gasped in a harsh breath and tore the headset from his ears. His blue cap came off with it and tumbled into his lap but he didn't notice.
He threw a shaking hand up to press in on the repaired laceration. It did nothing to remove the pain.
To his right, his employer said something he couldn't distinguish. He sounded anxious.
Billy shouted to him. Don' do it, brother!
He didn't know what he wasn't supposed to do.
The pain increased and drove Billy's warning yells from his mind.
What ain' I s'posed t' do? What?
oooooo
A few seconds passed as Hanson drew the box cutter from his pocket and carefully opened it. As he did, he heard the pilot suck in a sharp breath of air and groan softly.
The pained sound made the ex-CIA agent listen more closely.
"Are you alright, Captain Murdock?" That was Cazador's voice and he sounded alarmed.
oooooo
Face noticed the box cutter in the other man's hand and saw him rise to his feet and creep toward the right hand side of the cockpit.
Throwing the tarp to the side and moving quickly, the Lieutenant cleared the distance between Hanson and himself. He buried the barrel of his pistol in the other man's ribs and muttered into his ear, "Drop it or you'll have a new hole in your body."
Hanson opened his hand and the box cutter fell on the floor. Still holding the gun to the assistant's back, Face reached up to pat him down. He paused and smiled, removing the gun from the shoulder holster, slipping it inside his pocket. As he bent to retrieve the other weapon, Hanson turned quickly and caught Face in the belly with his fist.
The Lieutenant doubled over, vaguely aware of Cazador's shouts. "What's going on back there? Hanson?"
oooooo
As Jackson drove, he repeated the word 'ammonia' and sent images of crashes the pilot had survived to weaken his resistance. He was beginning to win. The pilot's awareness of what was happening shrank and his actions became almost automatic.
It won't be long and I'll be able to totally manipulate Murdock's body and force the crash.
Then Jackson heard the pilot force out a song through the partial paralysis he was inducing. Murdock proved to be stronger than he gave him credit for. He concentrated harder and barely saw the black van with red trim turn onto the road and barrel toward him. By the time he realized the road was too narrow for both vehicles, it was too late.
oooooo
Hannibal eased the van onto the road that led to Cazador's ranch. B. A. would be waiting somewhere in the desert scrub brush to the side of the long dusty driveway.
"Look, Hannibal! Is that the car we've been chasing ever since Saint George? Dark blue sedan? The one you were telling me about?" Amy pointed at the car coming toward them. The roadway was barely wide enough to allow two small cars to pass each other. The van dominated most of both lanes. Hannibal edged the van closer to the middle.
"He isn't going to stop! Hannibal!" Amy sat up straighter in her seat, her mouth gaping open as the blue sedan neared, dust and gravel flying behind it. She dug her fingers into the upholstery of her seat.
To the side, B. A. stood and yelled something. His face was a contorted mask of horror mixed with rage. He waved his arms and began sprinting through the desert foliage to the approximate location where the two vehicles would meet.
"Hannibal!" Amy screamed as the Colonel clenched his cigar in his mouth even tighter and increased his speed.
oooooo
It was like someone else's hands were on the controls of the Lucky Lady and he was a spectator. He couldn't speak. He couldn't control his own movements.
Help me, Billy! We're gonna crash . . . 'n' die . . . if ya don'.
It was like he was in a dream and watching himself crash a plane without being able to stop it.
Maybe that's what's goin' on. Maybe I'm still back in Kingman in a motel 'n' ain' woke up yet.
But everything . . . Cazador, the interview, the Lucky Lady . . . it was all so real. He stared dully at the ribbon of road below him.
Safest thing'd be t' put th' Lady down there 'til this passes.
But he wasn't sure if he could.
Though the sharp pain in his head was a dull ache now, he had the horrifying sensation of being a marionette manipulated in someone else's hands. He fought against the unseen force which was dictating his actions. It was threatening to take away all of his awareness of what was before his eyes. When that happened, would he crash the plane?
With that realization, he moaned again. He tried to keep his mind active.
Maybe if I think hard 'nough 'bout somethin', I can fight this off.
He took a breath and forced words out past his paralyzed lips.
The song he croaked out wasn't terribly comforting but it was all he could think of at the moment.
Mister Cazador's gonna think I'm nuts.
"'Those magnificent men in their flyin' machines.
They go up, tiddly, up, up.
They go down, tiddly, down, down . . . '"
oooooo
At the last possible moment, the blue sedan veered off to the side. Its driver's front wheel bounced up over a boulder and when the car came back down, it was tilted, the driver's side higher up in the air than the passenger's side. Dust was still settling around the vehicle. B. A. approached it, looking like he could throttle both Hannibal and the driver in one movement for endangering his beloved van.
Hannibal turned to Amy with a wide grin on his face. "Haven't you ever seen someone play chicken before, Miss Allen?" He grinned broader and gestured toward the car. "He flinched. I didn't."
Even now, B. A. was at the driver's door, forcing it open and pulling the dazed and bleeding occupant out. The driver wobbled on his legs before collapsing unconscious to the ground.
"Colonel Jackson, I assume," the A-team leader muttered as B. A. tossed the man over his shoulders and carried him back to the van.
Stafford swallowed so hard the Colonel heard him. "That's him," he affirmed.
Amy took two deep breaths to steady her nerves before saying what she thought. "You're absolutely crazy, Hannibal!"
He laughed and took a draw from his cigar. "I know."
oooooo
At the sound of the pilot rasping out the movie song, Hanson hesitated. Although Face wondered at Murdock's choice, that was all he needed to gain the advantage in the fight.
Bringing his fist up, he gave the ex-CIA agent a bruising undercut to the chin that snapped the other man's head back to connect with the metal edge of the partition between the cockpit and the passenger's cabin. Hanson crumpled to the floor.
"'They enchant all the ladies and steal all the scenes
With their up, tiddly, up, up
'N' they're down, tiddly, down, down . . . "
Murdock's voice wavered as he tried to sing. He wasn't doing much better with the controls, Face realized with a sinking feeling. The plane crazily tipped side to side in the air as if it was fighting turbulence. The Lieutenant planted his feet shoulder width apart and held on tightly to the partition.
"Hanson?" Cazador's voice rose in pitch.
Face struggled to maintain his footing as he poked his head in through the gap in the partition. He didn't dare waste a minute. "Mister Cazador. Hanson was hired to kill you. My name is Peck and I've got to have your seat or we're all going to crash and die."