Every Thought Captive
AN: I'm sorry I have not delivered more chapters in a more timely fashion. I have been working part-time since June 1st and the job is quite physical and takes a little getting used to. I thrive on the comments left for me even if I have very little time now to respond to them in as much detail as I want. Please know I appreciate each one of you.
Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.
Chapter 73 The Plan Revealed
Murdock struggled to regain control over his memory of the crash. He no longer knew if he was reliving the nightmarish events that led to their capture and the deaths of his two crewmen or simply remembering it from a distance.
Or maybe we're still there 'n' we didn' leave? Face's here somewhere . . . 'n' I 'member I needed 'im t' be here for somethin' . . . maybe t' help convince Hann'bal we can' jus' leave Lazzard 'n' Collins here? . . .
"Face? Where are you . . . where a . . . " Fuel fumes and smoke mixed with the stench of his crewmen's blood, surrounding him and choking off his words.
Oh, God, let 'im answer. We gotta . . .
"I'm right here, buddy. I'm not leaving you." That was Face's voice and it wasn't as filled with anxiety as Murdock's own rasping plea. Concern tinged the Lieutenant's tone but it was a different kind of concern. Not worry over being captured. It confused him and he felt himself tighten his hold on thick velvety cloth that covered the lower half of his body . . .
. . . hold on a sec . . . bed covers? . . .
He heard a door open somewhere. The Lieutenant whispered to someone, "You can stay here only if you let me do what I have to do, Amy. Just stand back in case he wakes up and starts fighting me."
"I'll stand right here behind you. No way am I leaving if there's a chance he would tear your stitches in a struggle. Got that, mister?" The feminine voice was full of stubborn determination.
Amy?
An image of a pretty brown-haired young woman bending over open file drawers, looking for something flashed in his mind and then disappeared. The memory lasted long enough for him to know he recognized her from somewhere. It wasn't Cyndy. It had to be the one Face called Amy.
But what's a file cab'net doin' in Happy Valley? 'N' even more, what's she doin' here?
"Where . . . ?" He winced as he searched his mind to think through what was happening.
It don' make sense.
"We're at Cazador's ranch in Arizona, not in Nam. You remember Cazador, don't you? You were flying his plane." Face's voice was low and gentle, barely a murmur.
Caz . . . Cazador. Cazador! That's right! But what was I gonna say? It was somethin' . . .
Cazador's smile and words came back to him all at once. He sucked in a harsh breath and forced his eyes open.
Glancing wildly around the well-furnished room, his gaze landed on Face, sitting in a comfortable armchair next to him. Amy stood behind him, her good hand absently massaging his shoulder while she watched Murdock wake up.
That was close. A'most got sucked inta my mind this time. Well, guess I know I shouldn' try that again.
"Welcome back to the States, buddy," the Lieutenant said with a smile. Amy gave him a sympathetic nod. Her eyes were still wide with the knowledge that the pilot could be dangerous during episodes like what she had just witnessed.
"I . . . I must o' been dreamin'. I could o' . . . swore . . . we were . . . " The pilot drew in a shaky breath and frowned.
"Nope. Wherever you were in your dream, it was just a dream. Remember that. It was just a very bad dream and now you're awake." Face stifled a yawn. "If it'll keep you from having any more, I'll sleep here in this chair so I can bring you back if you dream like that again."
"Face," Amy murmured, disappointment heavy in her voice.
"I have to do this, angel. I don't let brothers of mine fight their battles alone." The con man clutched her hand and held it to his stubbled cheek before kissing and releasing it. "But if you want to stay, I seem to remember faintly that the futon over there is pretty comfortable. Either that, or there's my lap, but if I have to help my buddy again, you might have to wake up pretty fast."
He gestured with his head toward the futon, keeping his eyes on Murdock's face.
"I gotta talk t' ya, Faceman. Guess it don' matter if Amy hears 'r not s' long as she doesn' go talkin' outside th' room 'bout it." He glanced up at the reporter, wondering if she might be more likely to agree to what he had to say than his best friend would.
He could side with th' big mudsucker on this one . . . but then 'gain, maybe he won'.
"What about it, sweetheart?" Face continued to scrutinize the pilot closely while he asked Amy the question. He was making Murdock anxious.
He's wonderin' if I'm delirious 'r somethin'. Wouldn' blame him.
"I can keep confidential information as secret as anyone. Just because I'm a reporter doesn't mean I try to make a major news story out of everything." She crossed her arms, her eyes blazing with resentment.
Murdock didn't know which of them she was more upset with.
"Good 'nough for me," he mumbled. Now that he had their full attention, he wasn't sure how to tell them his plan.
"Thank you!" Amy huffed and let her hands rest on the back of the armchair.
"I tried t' get B. A. t' listen but he wouldn' have none of it." Murdock avoided their eyes and picked at the bed covers. "I don' even know if he ain' gonna go talk t' Hann'bal 'bout what I said."
"Okaaay . . . " Face answered, the word drawn out and begging for more information.
Murdock tightened his jaw for a few seconds, thinking about what to say next. Finally, he breathed deeply and started.
"I know Hannibal's gonna want Stafford, Jackson 'n' Mister Cazador b'hind bars 'r somethin' . . . 'n' for Jackson 'n' Stafford that may be fine . . . but . . . " He peeked at Face before continuing. " . . . I can' . . . I won' let 'im put Mister Cazador in jail."
The con man studied his friend's desperate expression for a few moments before sighing. "Okay. Should I ask why?"
"No."
"But you need me to do something to stop Hannibal from implicating Cazador?"
"Yes . . . 't least 'til I can get my head back on straight after th' surgery." Murdock stared up at the ceiling, knowing his plan would sound crazy to anyone who didn't know how remote influencing worked. He knew a little about it but he was not as experienced as Colonel Jackson at it.
But that li'l session I had with 'im out in that shed showed me I can do it.
"What do you need for us to do, Murdock?" Amy interrupted his thoughts. She moved around to perch on the arm of the chair.
He turned his head abruptly toward them, wondering if Face shared her willingness to help. The Lieutenant's expression was unreadable.
Least he looks like he's willin' t' listen. 'N' I got Amy on my side 'n' she can be a powerful influence on my buddy.
"When I go into surgery, I need one of you to slip Hannibal a mickey in his coffee that'll knock him out for 's long as it takes for me t' get a clear head 'gain." The words came out quickly but he didn't have time to explain. Hannibal would return some time soon to check on Face's progress in getting Murdock settled down again.
"But why?" Face took Amy's hand and squeezed it without looking at her, shaking his head to silence her.
"Can' go inta that right now. But before that I need ya t' tell Hann'bal that th' bes' place for that . . . thing . . . in my head's t' be in Jackson's head 'n' get Mister Cazador t' make th' arrangements for it t' happen."
Face cut in before Murdock could say another word. "We were already talking about that. Stafford brought it up. Jackson will be in surgery as soon as the Doctor removes the neuroelectromagnetic device from you."
The pilot let out a frustrated sigh and swiped his eyes with one hand. "Ain' good 'nough. Now that I know what they did t' me . . . something the Company's been wantin' t' be developed for 's long as I've known . . . no, ya gotta plant commands 'n' a trigger word. If ya don' do that, th' thing's useless."
Murdock caught the uneasy glance exchanged between Amy and Face at his mention of the CIA.
If I didn' hafta convince 'em I know what I'm talkin' 'bout, I wouldn' tell 'em anythin' 'bout th' Company.
"What else do you need from us?" The Lieutenant settled back into the cushions of his chair and frowned.
"After both o' us're outta surgery, I need t' be in th' same recov'ry room as Jackson 'n' wake up b'fore he does. I need t' be 'lone with 'im." Murdock searched their faces to see if they understood what he was trying to say.
"Hannibal wouldn't allow tha . . . " Face began.
Murdock angrily swept his objection away with his hand. "'N' that's why ya hafta slip 'im somethin' in 'is coffee or in one o' his cigars."
"But Murdock, shouldn't someone besides you know what trigger word or commands you're going to program into Jackson?" Amy asked the question in a gentle voice but her face betrayed her worry for him.
"No. I don' think so. He's my problem 'n' I'm gonna make sure he don' try t' squeeze out from underneath any charges 'gainst 'im." He narrowed his eyes, remembering the commands and the trigger words he wanted to plant. A grim smile crept across his face, thinking about it.
"You aren't doing this to take revenge for . . . " The reporter stared at him with a hint of fear in her face.
The con man raised a hand to quiet her again. "And what if Jackson wakes up while you're trying to program him? What then?"
Good question.
"I learned 'nough from Jackson 'bout remote influencin' t' do some damage to 'im if that happened. If I wake up first, his senses'll still be dulled 'nough t' make it a handicap."
I hope.
Both of his friends looked skeptical and so concerned he thought he needed to make an effort to get them to smile.
"Don' worry. I ain' gonna order Jackson t' take a long walk off a short pier 'r cluck like a chicken." He hoped his words lightened their uneasy feelings about what he was planning.
Neither of them smiled at his joking reassurance.
He sighed. "I got somethin' in mind that'll get 'im outta my 'n' Mister Cazador's life permanently without killin' 'im."
Another anxious glance passed between Amy and Face before the con man spoke again."What else do we have to do?" In frustration, he absently ran one hand over his hair.
"Ya need t' get me out here t' th' ranch b'fore Hann'bal wakes up so I can fly Mister Cazador 'n' his fam'ly somewhere safe 'til all this blows over." Murdock tightened his jaw against what he was sure would be a definite 'no.'
"Fly? After a surgery like that?" Amy's mouth stayed open in stunned silence after the last word she uttered.
Face was already shaking his head. "Uh uh. No way. It's bad enough you want me to drug Hannibal . . . "
Murdock muttered, "'N' th' Big Guy, too, if he don' cooperate." He closed his eyes against the reaction he knew he would get. When nothing happened but a small gasp of surprise from Amy, he stole a cautious peek at his friend.
The con man raised his eyebrows and threw his hands up in the air. "Oh, it just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it? So if Hannibal doesn't run my legs off on his obstacle course as punishment for doing what you ask, I'll still have to keep watching my back for B. A. wanting to kill me."
Murdock forced himself to sit up in bed. The sudden movement made his head swim but he had to set things right. He needed an accomplice to help him protect his unit, his friends.
"Please, Face." He pleaded with his friend through the wave of dizziness that threatened to lay him flat on his back again. Wiping his hand across his forehead and right side of his face, he closed his eyes. It made the feeling worse.
He sensed hands gently guiding him back onto the pillows. "See? You're having trouble even now just sitting up. How would you be able to fly an airplane?" That was Amy's voice but when he opened his eyes, he saw Face hovering above him with Amy peeking at him over his shoulder.
"Mister Cazador can take over if I have problems. I have somethin' t' talk over with 'im after th' surgery 'n' it's gotta be jus' me 'n' him. No Hann'bal 'r anyone else listenin' in. Okay?" Murdock's voice was a rasping protest.
I gotta think 'bout that job offer . . . see if Mister Cazador's serious 'bout it . . . 'n' how serious once he finds out where I live . . .
Face shook his head even more vigorously than before, keeping his eyes on his friend. "No. Not okay. You're not thinking straight, buddy."
"Au contraire, mon ami. I'm thinkin' more clearly than I've been thinkin' since Jackson got 'is hands on me." He swallowed hard to fight a wave of nausea.
"And if we say we won't help you, you'll try to do something on your own?" Amy moved closer to stroke back the hair on his forehead. Her hand felt chilled against his skin.
Am I runnin' a temp? No! Why now?
"He's awfully feverish, Face."
"It's probably the reason he isn't make much sense."
"Yes. I will try t' do it on my own 'N' none o' you'll stop me." It was the last thing Murdock said before falling asleep again.
He didn't hear the door open and close again or the anxious glances shared among Hannibal, Amy and Face as they talked about the last words he said.