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 77 Secret Plans
"It's time. I don' want this . . . thin' . . . in my head anymore. I'm good t' go." Murdock turned his head on the pillow, letting his gaze settle in turn on each of the seven people assembled at his bedside. "Take my temp'rature, feel my face. No more fever."
I gotta convince 'em. I gotta do what I gotta do b'fore I lose my nerve.
When his eyes settled on Doctor Stafford, he tightened his jaw. The medical man shifted from one foot to the other and looked away but Murdock continued to glare at him.
I know he's jus' doin' what th' Company wanted 'im t' do, comin' up with this thin' t' make me th' perfect assassin. Company's good at gettin' folks t' do things 'gainst their will. But Stafford ain' sorry he did it either. Prob'ly wanted a big promotion for comin' up with it.
Cazador cleared his throat. "What do you think, Dennie? Is he strong enough?"
Doctor Willis pursed his lips and adjusted the blood pressure cuff around the pilot's arm. "If it was up to me, I'd let him heal for another month. But the man we're keeping sedated in that shed . . . " He scowled at Smith before continuing. ". . . putting him in a forced coma when he has no medical need for it . . . "
Hannibal gazed back at him with steely eyes and crossed his arms.
". . . it goes against my grain, Juan." Willis glanced at Cazador before resuming his medical examination of the patient.
"Then let 'im outta th' coma 'n' I'll take care o' him myself. But like I said before, I don' guarantee either one o' us'll be 'live after," the pilot muttered, clenching one fist on the bed covers.
Willis grunted his disapproval and stuck a thermometer under his patient's tongue. That, at least, kept Murdock silent for a moment.
"We ain' gonna do that, fool." B. A. scowled at the man in the bed, returning his fiery stare. Then he turned his eyes on the Colonel. "We ain', are we?"
His arm around Amy, Face scrubbed a hand across his eyes and glanced at Hannibal as if wondering the same thing.
The Colonel didn't move. His eyes were locked on Murdock's. "No, Sergeant. That isn't going to happen."
That's a r'lief! But then we gotta do it th' other way.
Cazador coughed. "If you're concerned about Colonel Jackson's well-being and Captain Murdock is determined to have this done, perhaps we need to consider that surgery sooner than later, Dennie. What do you need, Stafford?" The doctor looked up, aware the businessman was addressing him.
Removing his glasses and wiping them with a handkerchief, he frowned. "We can't do anything here at the ranch. We'll need to move them to a surgical suite."
Murdock, the thermometer fresh out of his mouth, snorted. "Ya gonna put me under all th' way this time? 'R are ya gonna give me ketamine so I can feel ya cut through my skull 'gain?" He remembered Doctor Stafford's mocking voice asking him if he was ready, then the whine of the drill, the pressure as the hole was cut. There wasn't any pain because of the ketamine but . . . he swallowed involuntarily and rubbed his eyes with his hand.
"I had good reason to do that. I was under orders to have you ready for a remote viewing session and you couldn't be heavily anesthetized . . . " Stafford's voice drifted off as he realized how close to him the big Sergeant was standing.
Murdock removed his hand from his face and peered at the doctor. "For someone jus' obeyin' orders, ya seemed t' enjoy yerself an awful lot when that drill cut through my skull." He knew the statement would get a reaction from his friends. He hoped it would.
Stafford can' be allowed t' do that t' anyone else.
Face flinched at the thought of what had been done to his best friend while Amy gasped, her hand to her mouth.
They didn' know. Wonder how they would o' treated Stafford if they had?
At the pilot's words, B. A. growled. "He'd better put ya under or I'll put him under." He edged closer to the medical man.
Murdock turned his gaze on Hannibal. "Stafford's gotta do th' surgery 'cause he knows how t' take th' . . . thing . . . outta my head 'n' put it in Jackson. But I want Mister Cazador's doctor here t' watch everythin' Stafford's doin' t' make sure he don' do nothin' funny."
"I'll second that. This . . . doctor . . . " Cazador flashed angry eyes at Stafford. ". . . can't be trusted. Remember who he was working for. Dennie, make sure he uses something that will ensure Captain Murdock doesn't experience any pain from the procedure. And make sure he doesn't try anything." The businessman nodded to the pilot. "You'll be alright, son. You've got my word on that."
Murdock glanced at Hannibal, noting the steely anger in his eyes and the fleeting glare he gave Cazador. Preoccupied with what his CO's look meant, the pilot nodded absently and muttered, "I know. Yer a man o' yer word, Mister Cazador."
B. A. narrowed his eyes at the statement but said nothing.
"We'll be right outside the door of the operating room. In case something goes wrong. We're there for you, buddy."
"You can't be right outside. It wouldn't be sterile."
Murdock heard Face's voice and the sputtering protest from Willis but he was too distracted trying to figure out why the Colonel was so furious.
'Less he thinks I'm gettin' too cozy with Mister Cazador. What'd he do if he knew I was seriously considerin' that job offer? But I don' think he knows 'bout it . . . yet. Jus' one more thing t' hafta think 'bout after I take care o' Jackson.
"It isn't just them who want to be there in case something goes wrong. I'm afraid you'll have to set up five chairs outside that room." That was Mister Cazador's voice. Murdock felt a twinge of anxiety.
What if Hann'bal has secon' thoughts 'bout lettin' him go free? What if Mister Cazador d'cides t' turn them in soon as I'm in surgery?
Pushing that out of his mind, he scowled up at Doctor Willis. "So how soon b'fore I can be free o' this thing?"
Willis gave Cazador a resigned look and muttered, "I'll work on finding a secluded operating room so there won't be any questions."
"The fewer, the better, doc." Hannibal stared at Murdock so long the pilot thought he was trying to see inside his mind. Finally, the Colonel sighed, then said, "You rest up for now, Captain. And that's an order. Let us worry about the arrangements. Okay?"
"Yessir." Murdock scanned Hannibal's face as he turned to leave the room. "There's 'nother thing I gotta ask."
Everyone in the room froze.
Seeing their reaction, Murdock tried to smile but it came out as an uncomfortable grimace. "Actually, two things. After it's . . . done . . . 'n' I've made sure Jackson ain' gonna bother us anymore . . . " He gazed at Hannibal and Cazador in turn. ". . . whatever happens, Jackson can' see me. B'fore he wakes up all th' way, ya gotta get me outta that room."
B. A. growled, his brow furrowed in an intense scowl. "How we gonna do that if ya won't let us be in there with ya?"
"He's got a point, buddy." Face shrugged as Murdock glared at the Sergeant.
"I'll yell for someone. Jus' listen for me." The patient swiped his hand over his face in frustration. "After what I do t' stop 'im, he can' see me 'gain 'til I d'cide when. If ever."
"Ain' making no sense, fool. What're ya gonna do?" B. A. asked the question Murdock knew all of them wanted him to answer.
He shook his head, wincing at the lingering pain in his throat wound. "I'd rather keep that t' myself, if ya don' mind. There's somethin' else ya gotta do."
"If it's something we can do, we'll get it done for you. What is it?" Cazador spoke before Hannibal could say a word. Looking at the Colonel's irritated glance toward the businessman, Murdock knew the two men were vying for his loyalty.
But that's stupid. Hann'bal oughta know by now, I stick with my unit. Even if I take Cazador up on th' job . . . I'll still keep in touch, be ready t' help 'em . . . he's gotta know that . . .
Trying to avoid thinking about the impending conflict between Cazador and the Colonel, Murdock focused on his plan. "Ya gotta put Jackson with a crate o' those weapons somewhere 'n' let 'im wake up. I suggest leavin' him 'n' a few crates in a cave. Make it look like he was hidin' 'em. But b'fore that, ya gotta give th' military an anonymous tip 'bout where they can find 'im."
"But won't Jackson tell them all about Cazador? Maybe even make up a story about how he happened to get his hands on the weapons he has? He might even implicate you to get rid of you once and for all." Face tightened his hold around Amy's shoulders.
The pilot took in a deep breath and released it slowly. His voice so hushed they had to strain to hear him, Murdock muttered, "No. No, he won'."
"What ya mean by that, fool?" B. A. blustered out a confused angry question.
"Ya gotta jus' trust me, guys. Now I'd like some time 'lone b'fore the big event. If ya don' mind."
He turned his gaze to the ceiling above but his mind envisioned what he was going to do in the recovery room. He had to get it right or Jackson would find a way to wiggle out of the trap. Silently going over every word and thought he would be directing toward a barely conscious Colonel Jackson, he didn't hear the others leave.
oooooo
"What did you make of that, Hannibal?" Face stood with Hannibal, B. A. and Cazador in the hallway. The two medical men had gone to Cazador's office to begin locating a place where the surgery could take place without any questions.
The Colonel shook his head in frustration. "I don't know what to make of it. He's determined to take care of Jackson alone without our help." Hannibal leaned against the wall and cursed softly under his breath. "Damn that stubborn nature of his!"
Standing beside Face, holding his hand in hers, Amy peeked back at the door.
"What do you think he's going to do?" she whispered.
"As long as it means Colonel Jackson will no longer threaten either the Captain or myself, I don't really care what he does with him." Cazador scowled at the floor, his hands tucked in his pants pockets. Sensing Hannibal's disapproving look, he added, "He said he wasn't going to kill him if he could help it. Captain Murdock doesn't seem to me to be the type of man who would kill unless he was protecting someone . . . as he did when Hanson attacked me."
"You got that right, sucka. Murdock's not a cold-blooded murderer." The Sergeant's statement hung in the air like an accusation.
Hannibal gave B. A. a warning glance. "He seems to be planning a way to get Jackson arrested for illegal possession of military weaponry. But how he's going to keep Jackson from talking, I don't want to even begin to try to understand."
"As soon as he gives the word, I'll drive him back to the ranch and make him comfortable," Cazador offered.
"Now wait a minute." Face frowned, removing his hand from Amy's and swiping it through his hair. "You've been acting like this is Murdock's home. Well, it isn't. He goes with us when we leave this place." Suddenly uncertain, the con man turned to Hannibal. "Right, Colonel?"
Hannibal's icy gaze didn't leave Cazador's face. His jaw twitched with the anger he felt.
"He'll need some time to recover from the surgery. And you'll all be busy driving Jackson and the crates from the Lucky Lady out to the mine." Cazador crossed his arms defensively.
"And you'll be doin' what?" B. A. demanded.
"Now, do any of you honestly want to be the ones to call the anonymous tip in? Besides, I know the territory better than you and can give them better directions." The businessman smirked. "Don't worry about Captain Murdock. I'll see Doctor Willis keeps an eye on his condition once he's back here. And you are all welcome to remain as my personal guests as long as it takes for him to heal."
"Guests? Or prisoners?" Face muttered, thrusting his hands in his pants pockets and glancing at his CO.
Cazador smiled at him. "That would be for your Colonel to decide. Wouldn't it, Colonel Smith?" The businessman turned toward his office. "I'm going to see what kind of progress Dennie is making on that surgical suite. If you would excuse me?"
As they watched him disappear into his office and shut the door, Amy clutched Face's arm. "We aren't leaving without Murdock, are we, Hannibal?"
The Colonel adjusted one of his black gloves as he answered. "No, Miss Allen. No, we aren't. One way or another, Murdock comes with us when we go back to Los Angeles."