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 80 Tension
B. A. scowled at the hospital doors and grumbled under his breath. He wasn't sure how much time had elapsed since Cazador wheeled Murdock into the building with Face and Amy following. It seemed like an hour or more. It was difficult to tell when about the only things around him were the dimly lit parking lot and, beyond its perimeter, darkness.
The burly Sergeant saw a dim red glow from the cigarette Cazador's man was smoking. Scanlon parked across the lot but near the door so his boss and Murdock could get out of the hospital and on the road quickly.
Fool shouldn' be goin' with them. He b'longs with us.
He thought about the confession Murdock had made to him about Cazador's job offer. "He's crazy if he thinks Cazador ain' gonna have him run guns sometime."
B. A. frowned. He wasn't sure why the job offer bothered him so much. "But how easy's it gonna be ta convince those VA quacks Murdock ain' nuttier than a squirrel's winter stash?"
With that question reassuring him slightly, he dismissed his worry and scanned the parking lot again for any activity.
His senses were on high alert. Encasing one fist in the palm of his other hand, he cracked his knuckles. The pops they made sounded like gunfire.
His muscles were overly taut but he did not dare get out of the van to walk around in the parking lot. Someone might see him and wonder what he was doing at that time of the night. And he was easy to identify to the police should a worried citizen decide to call in a report.
"Faceman oughta have come out ta relieve me by now." He peered at the unconscious man on the floor of the van. "Least I ain' had ta do any CPR on ya. Wish ya'd wake up. Then we'd all be able ta wait outside that operatin' room."
No reaction.
B. A. didn't expect any but he sighed anyway. The drug they used on the Sergeant to put him to sleep for overseas flights was powerful. If Amy gave Hannibal only half of what they gave him . . .
"Yer gonna have one helluva headache when ya wake up. No wonder the fool was worried 'bout ya." He squinted toward the doors again as if doing so would urge the con man to come out to at least give him a status report.
With all his threats to kill Murdock and his constant 'angry mudsucker' attitude whenever the crazy man spoke or did something nonsensical, maybe Face and Amy believed he didn't care.
"An' I don't!" he growled. "But the fool's useful sometimes. Who else's gonna donate blood ta me if I need it someday?" He said the words under his breath as much to convince himself as to fill the quiet of the van with something besides Hannibal's soft snoring.
Yeah. That's it. It's 'cause he's my blood type in case o' emergency.
He fiercely scrubbed his face with one hand.
Jackson 'r Stafford do anything ta the crazy man, I'll kill 'em. Won't let Hannibal 'r Cazador stop me either.
Surprised at the intensity of his thought, he glared at the hospital again and muttered, "C'mon, Faceman. Tell me what's goin' on."
oooooo
"It's taking too long. Something must have happened." For the ninth time since Willis wheeled Murdock into the surgery, Face got to his feet and paced up and down in front of Amy and Cazador. He swept a hand through his hair in frustrated nervousness. Glaring at the double doors with the 'Authorized Personnel Only' sign posted outside, he jerked a thumb toward it and grumbled, "If someone doesn't come out soon to let us know how he is, I'm going in, sterile environment be damned!"
Just try and stop me.
"Calm yourself, Lieutenant Peck. If Stafford does something, if he even sneezes funny, Dennie will get us in there quickly." Cazador licked his lips, his eyes involuntarily darting toward the doors.
"You were the target. You were the reason they did this to my buddy. If Stafford hurts or kills him . . . " Face stopped and mumbled a frustrated curse, jamming his hands in his pockets as he did. He couldn't meet Cazador's gaze. He didn't know what he would do to the businessman if he did look at him.
If something goes wrong . . .
"Face, please. Come sit down. You can't barge in there. What if Stafford slips with whatever instrument he's using and makes a wrong cut because he's startled?" Amy's eyes filled with tears of understanding and sympathy. She stood and took his hand, gently leading him back to the chairs.
"She's right, you know." The arms smuggler murmured his agreement.
"Just shut up! Shut the hell up!" When the Lieutenant glared at him, Cazador raised his hands, palms out in a gesture of surrender.
"Okay. But understand that I'm also concerned about Captain Murdock."
Amy sat down and patted the seat beside her. "Come on, Face. Watching the door like that won't make it go any faster. If there had been problems, we would have heard a struggle or something. I don't think Doctor Willis would let Stafford do anything he wasn't supposed to without calling for us."
Amy was right, of course, and Face knew it.
I just don't want to hear it from him.
He wondered why Cazador was so interested in Murdock's survival. It had to be something beyond gratitude for saving his life.
He couldn't be thinking of hiring Murdock . . . no, that can't be it. Murdock would never consider accepting a job from someone like Cazador.
As the con man settled back on the seat, he leaned over his legs, his head bowed and eyes squeezed shut, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together. With her good hand, Amy massaged the middle of his upper back as he sent thought prayers to the God the nuns told him about back in the orphanage. Maybe He was listening. At least, Face hoped He was.
oooooo
Murdock heard fuzzy mumbling above him as he woke. Disoriented, he squeezed his eyelids tighter. He shuddered and involuntarily gasped in a quick breath. Waiting for the next slash of the bamboo switch across the bare skin of his chest, he hoped his captors hadn't seen or heard and believed him to still be unconscious. A dull pain above his ear made him wonder if they struck him so hard he temporarily passed out.
Wouldn' be th' first time. God, please don' let 'em know I'm 'wake 'gain!
"He's starting to wake up."
Oh God, no!
He kept his breaths shallow, feigning unconsciousness for as long as he could. But they had already noted the signs. He braced himself for the next round of questions and torture.
Something tightened around his bicep and another something cool and metallic pressed into the crook of his arm. Moments later, the pressure around his arm released with a hiss.
Murdock had been hospitalized way too many times in the past not to remember waking from other surgeries with the same things being done to him. Slowly, he pieced together what had just happened to him.
Charlie didn' give me any first aid when he was tryin' t' break me. 'N' that was English I heard.
"His blood pressure's stabilizing. Thank God. When he stopped breathing . . . " The voice seemed to have a hint of anger and accusation in it.
Stopped breathin'?
"Like I told you, I had no intention of killing him to cover anything up. If I did, those men out there would tear me limb from limb."
Those men out there? He's gotta mean Hann'bal, Face 'n' B. A. They gotta be somewhere close by.
The voice became more businesslike and seemed to be moving away from him. "Give him some more oxygen. If he doesn't revive any more than he has within a few minutes, we'll have to try something a bit more drastic. I'll make sure Colonel Jackson is receiving the right amount of sedatives to prevent him from waking."
Murdock felt tubing draped over his face and air hissing softly into his nostrils. The mention of Colonel Jackson's name jolted him into remembering the task he had rehearsed over and over again back at the ranch. Now fully aware of what was happening, he cracked open his eyelids to affirm it. Blinking a couple of times with the brightness of the light, he sought out Doctor Willis.
"Doc?" he rasped.
"You're in the recovery room. Stafford transferred the device to Jackson." There was a suggestion of disgust in the tone Willis took.
"R . . .recovery . . . " Murdock whispered the word. Although he didn't remember any of the dreams, if he had any during the time he was under, he was sure a brief hallucinatory memory made him think he was back in the POW camp when he woke.
"Yes. You're free of the implant now. You need some time to recover."
The pilot opened his eyes wider and grasped the doctor's wrist. He shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. The edges of his thinking were still clouded with haziness from the anesthesia. "No. If I do . . . he'll recover, too . . . He'll be able t' . . . fight me, mebbe win. Ya gotta do . . . what I said . . . now!"
"You can't seriously be telling us we have to leave you both alone unmonitored." Willis scowled at him. "Just out of surgery, your vital signs have to be watched. This was brain surgery, not an operation to remove an ingrown toenail."
Murdock strained to get past his own head's fogginess and check Jackson's thoughts. He was somewhat relieved to find nothing but the shadowy images from deep sleep.
He ain' gonna stay that way forever. I hafta act fast . . . but not with them in th' room. Willis'd stop me. Stafford prob'ly wouldn' but Willis would.
When he refocused on the men in the room, he noted consternation on Willis's face. Stafford shrugged, his expression cold. "Your call, Captain," he muttered.
"Ya . . . gotta . . . " Murdock hissed, releasing the wrist and grabbing the front of the doctor's shirt. Tightening his grip, he exerted much of his energy into pulling Willis within two feet of his face. He repeated, "Ya gotta."
The strength he put into the movement made Willis hesitate and glance at Stafford.
The pilot took in a deep breath, ripped the cannula from his face and brought the doctor even closer. Glaring into the startled medical man's eyes he emphasized, "Get . . . out . . . now! Both of ya!"
Willis tore the hand from his shirt and backed away. The other medical man clapped him on the shoulder, an action that made Willis flinch. "We need to let them know the operation is finished."
Taking the arm of Cazador's personal physician, Stafford led him to the door. Once there, he stared at Murdock with the same impassive look he had before. "Whatever you're going to do, do it quickly. I can't guarantee how long the Colonel will remain unconscious."
The pilot nodded, his gaze on the sleeping man who wished him dead for so long. "Won' take that long, what I gotta do. Jus' tell 'em t' listen for th' call t' get me outta here."
"Will do, Captain." Stafford opened the door, practically pushing Willis through to the hallway outside. Before he followed, he glanced at Jackson and murmured, "Wouldn't want to be him just about now. Revenge is a bitch."
oooooo
When Stafford and Willis emerged from the operating room Face lurched to his feet. Anxiously scanning first one man's expression and then the other, he looked beyond them to the doors they had just come through.
Willis doesn't look happy. What did Stafford do?
"My buddy." Those were the only words he could force through the knot of worry in his throat.
Amy and Cazador stood up to flank him on either side.
"He told us to get out." Willis's worried gaze met Cazador's eyes for only a second. Then the doctor squared his shoulders and spoke to the con man. "Your friend almost died . . . again. I warned all of you it was too soon."
Face glared at Stafford. The medical man smirked and crossed his arms. "At least you can be assured the device is no longer in your friend's head. And the device is still working which means my life work has not been wasted. Rather a good job I did under the circumstances."
Without warning, the Lieutenant surged forward to grip Stafford around his neck. Shoving him against the wall, he tightened his hold until the doctor let out a panicked wheeze. Grasping at the hands that held him, Stafford kicked at Face's shins but missed.
"Your 'life work' just about killed my buddy twice now. Now that you've done what you were supposed to, I have half a mind to make sure you don't have the opportunity to work with the military ever again." Breathing hard with his intense anger, Face tightened his stranglehold.
Cazador rushed forward to wrestle Face's hands away from the other man's neck. As the Lieutenant wheeled around ready to punch the businessman, he released Stafford and elbowed him hard in the ribs. With great effort, Cazador managed to pull Face back. Stafford clutched his throat and gulped in several breaths as his skin tone returned to normal.
Willis spoke again, this time much louder. "He isn't dead, though. He told us he would let us know when he was finished with Jackson."
"And when will that be?" Face let Amy wrap her arm around his waist in an effort to calm him.
Stafford shrugged. "I assume when he finishes implanting the orders and trigger words in Jackson's memory. Until then, we might as well relax."
"Easy for you to say," Face muttered as he hugged Amy closer.