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 82 Briefing
By the time B. A. and Face secured Colonel Jackson in the wheelchair and brought him out to the parking lot, Cazador's sedan was gone. B. A. wasn't as surprised as the con man to see that.
He's been waitin' for a chance ta get Murdock alone ta talk ta him 'bout that job offer. Now's his chance.
The black man shook his head in anger.
But maybe the fool's so out of it Cazador won't try.
The Lieutenant tightened his grip on the chair's handles. "Cazador didn't waste any time getting out of here," he muttered.
Amy gently stroked one of his hands, at a loss of what to say to help him. She knew he didn't trust the arms smuggler. Hell, she wasn't sure how far to trust him either. And remembering how close Cazador seemed to be to their pilot . . .
She murmured, "Murdock said Jackson couldn't be allowed to see him after the surgery. Remember? Cazador's only doing what he was supposed to do." As if she completely believed that. The cold stare from Face didn't reassure her. Removing her hand from his, she glared back at him. "I'm right, aren't I? Wasn't that what Murdock wanted?"
B. A. remained stoically silent. Can't say it ain' fittin' in with Cazador's plans, too.
Instead of answering, Face turned his attention to the Sergeant. "We need to get on the road so we're moving when Cazador calls us."
Ahead of you on that one, Faceman. But we got another problem we gotta attend to.
Stafford's upper arm firmly gripped in one meaty hand, B. A. growled, "Van's over there. Wait here, Faceman, an' I'll bring it over." Without allowing Stafford an opportunity to protest, the Sergeant half-dragged the doctor to the vehicle. His forearm pressed against the man's throat, he kept him immobile against the front passenger's door while he opened the side door.
"In," he grunted as he released the medical man.
An' be glad I didn't do worse to ya.
Swallowing to get his breath back, Stafford dutifully climbed up into the rear seat. B. A. warily followed his movements, blocking the door so the scientist could not duck around him and run. The glower on B. A.'s face made it very clear to the doctor that he would not get very far trying to escape. Stafford collapsed into the seat nearest the door.
"Not that one. That one's for Face."
Stafford scrambled over Hannibal to get into the other seat, almost stepping on the Colonel's arm in the process. As soon as he sat down, the Sergeant slammed the door shut and got behind the wheel.
As B. A. started the engine, Hannibal moaned and shifted position on the floor.
For a second B. A. held his breath, hoping the leader was waking up and able to take charge of the operation. The Colonel promptly fell asleep again and the Sergeant glared at Stafford in the rear view mirror. "Yer gonna keep an eye on Hannibal, help him when he starts wakin' up. An' yer gonna keep Jackson knocked out until we get ta where we're s'posed ta be. Got that? An' Face'll be there ta make sure ya don't do somethin' stupid."
Without another word, the Sergeant drove the van nearer to the hospital doors and parked. Stafford dug his pack from his jacket pocket and took out a cigarette and his lighter. Sticking the cigarette between his lips, he flicked the flame on. His hands were shaking.
"No smokin' in my van."
The doctor froze with the lighter halfway to the tip of the cigarette.
Stafford glanced up to see the scowling Sergeant turn in his seat. Moments later, B. A. swept the pack, the cigarette and the lighter into his hand. Crushing the pack and the cigarette into a crumpled ball, he threw the lighter on the dashboard. He tossed the ruined pack in Stafford's lap before leaving the vehicle.
"Smoke that, fool."
Amy opened the side door as Face rolled the wheelchair as close as he could maneuver it. Within seconds, B. A. joined them.
"We don't have room on the floor for both of them," Face noted, peering at Hannibal softly snoring and laying on his side.
"He showed signs of wakin' up a while ago. Shouldn't be long now," the Sergeant offered as he worked at the restraints holding Jackson upright in the chair.
"You could prop Hannibal up in Murdock's seat . . . " Amy saw Face stiffen slightly as if he was reluctant for anyone else to have the place where his buddy usually sat. He stared at her until her gaze dropped to the ground. B. A. looked up just in time to see the exchange.
Faceman's still mad at Cazador but he don't hafta take it out on Amy. She don't deserve that.
"Li'l sis is right. Let Jackson have the floor." B. A. glanced from the annoyed Lieutenant to the reporter and frowned. "Hey, now ain' the time. The two o' you work it out later."
Amy stole a quick look at Face. His eyes softened as he apologized silently to her. Then he nodded and stood aside to allow B. A. to lift Hannibal into the seat and securely buckle him in. The Sergeant kept his smile to himself, knowing the two of them were on their way to making up.
"You get the front seat, Angel." The con man opened the front door to help Amy into Hannibal's seat. Leaning into her, he kissed her on the cheek and let his hand rest on her knee as he spoke. "Remember, grab that phone as soon as Cazador calls. I want to get this all over with as fast as we can and get back to the ranch."
"I'm worried about Murdock, too, Face." The reporter placed her hand on his and gazed into his eyes. "Cazador has been getting way too friendly with him. I don't know what it means."
"I do." B. A. knew they had forgotten about him for the moment. Both of them jumped slightly at his voice. He hefted Jackson's body from the wheelchair to the van floor and glowered at Stafford. "There he is. Now keep him asleep 'til we get where we're goin'."
"You do? You know why Cazador seems so concerned about Murdock?" Amy asked.
The Sergeant repeated himself as he motioned for Face to get in the back seat of the van. "I do. I know what Cazador's up to." He refused to say another word until they were on the road and heading out of town.
We gotta get on the road. Sooner we get back ta the ranch, the better chance we have of makin' sure the fool don' take that job Cazador's danglin' in front of him.
Looking at him, Amy could tell whatever he had to say couldn't be good news.
She glanced back at Face. He was as impatient as she was to hear what B.A. knew about Cazador's hold on Murdock. Angry, too, and expecting the worst if his expression meant anything. The driver sensed their anxiety. He wasn't the quickest to pick up on the feelings of others but the mood in the vehicle was especially intense.
Faceman an' the fool're like brothers. I gotta tell him what Murdock's thinkin'. Even if I can't tell the fool not ta take the job, maybe Faceman can.
The moon silvered the stark desert landscape on either side of them as the van sped southeast on I-10.
Finally Face broke the silence. "Okay, B. A. Tell us. What is Cazador's plan for Murdock?"
The Sergeant kept his eyes on the road but they smoldered with a dark threat. "Cazador offered th' fool a job an' he sounds an' acts like he might take it."
"A job? A job doing what? Flying illegal weapons to rebels in Central American countries?" Face snorted. "Murdock would never agree to do that."
"He says Cazador wants him as a personal pilot ta fly 'im where he needs ta go. Fool didn't say if that meant smuggling arms by plane or not. Don't think he knew for sure."
Jus' like Cazador don't know that fool as good as we do.
"With someone like Cazador what does Murdock expect? The man isn't a Boy Scout." The frown on the con man's face deepened into a disgusted grimace. "I'm going to have to talk to Murdock, try to reason with him. He can't possibly be seriously considering working for Cazador." Face drew a hand through his hair.
Exactly what I hoped ya'd say.
"Unless . . . " Amy started. Face turned his eyes on her. "Unless he's tired of being confined in the VA hospital and wants the freedom to fly more often. Now about the only time he gets to do that is when you're on missions."
"Crazy man's got a good reason for livin' where he does. An' he ain' been tryin' very hard ta show the docs he ain' crazy. Ain' convinced me yet." B. A. glanced at the Lieutenant in the rear view mirror. "Anyone can talk the fool outta takin' that job, you can, Faceman."
"He hasn't complained much about living in the VA hospital. He said it's his free room and board, courtesy of the federal government." Face got a puzzled expression. "I'm not really sure how he ended up in there to begin with. We were still in prison when he was committed. He's never talked about it. But now that he's there, he seems to have made it his home."
"But it's not where he wants to be," Amy argued. "Think about it. When is he really happiest? Or should I say, where?"
B. A. looked at the con man in the mirror again and knew he had the same guilt-ridden thoughts going through his mind.
We don't bust the fool out 'less Hannibal's got some mission for us ta do. At least, not that I'm aware. Maybe Face gets him outta there more often. But from his look, he knows it ain' often 'nough.
The reporter answered her own question with more questions to make her point. With each, B. A. noticed Face become more contemplative. "Haven't you ever listened when he's talked about what it feels like to be in the sky? I have. He's told me someday he hopes he can get his pilot's license back. And has he ever refused to fly a mission?"
Silence followed her observations.
Face sighed. "You're right, Angel," he conceded. "But I've got to try to convince him not to accept Cazador's offer because of who Cazador is. You know that."
The phone rang in the van, startling Amy. She quickly grabbed for it.
"Speak of the devil," the Lieutenant muttered as the reporter answered it.
oooooo
Murdock was semi-groggy when Cazador's sedan stopped. He heard both car doors in the front open and close quietly.
Whoever left the vehicle stood beside the door closest to his head. Even though the voices were muffled, he knew Cazador was giving Scanlon instructions. He fought the fogginess in his head and clutched at the top of the driver's seat beside him to drag himself into a sitting position. The moon barely illuminated the interior of the car through the tinted windows.
I can' have been out for very long.
Scrubbing his eyes with one hand, he suddenly felt nauseous and fumbled for the door handle. Before he could find it, the door opened.
"You're awake."
His hand over his mouth, Murdock tried to get out of the car quickly and fell on his hands and knees. In the next minute, Cazador was beside him, kneeling in the dirt, rubbing his back.
"Easy now, Captain. Don't try to do too much all at once."
The nauseous feeling passed but the pilot kept his head down anyway, knowing if he struggled to his feet, he would likely not stay on his feet for long.
"Sorry, Mister Cazador. Bein' put under does this t' me sometimes." He wasn't sure how he would get into the house from where he was. Carefully he shifted around until he sat in the dirt, his legs bent, his head lowered over them. Cursing inside, he willed his senses to stop whirling with dizziness.
I gotta get t' my feet. Gotta make sure Mister Cazador follows th' plan 'n' doesn' turn th' guys in once Jackson's outta th' way.
"Captain? Let us help you. Don't try to get up on your own." Glancing at his bodyguard, the businessman ordered, "Mister Scanlon, get on his other side." Cazador's grim expression told the pilot he wasn't going to get very far arguing.
As the two men pulled him to his feet, he temporarily saw black. He roused again to the sound of Cazador's voice and found himself sagging between them. "You're going to bed immediately when we get inside. I'll take care of the rest of your plan. You're going to rest."
He didn't have the words to respond. It wasn't what he wanted but his temporary fainting spell told him bed was the best place for him to be.
But it ain' what's best for th' guys.
The three of them slowly made their way to the ranch house door and on to the bedroom Murdock had occupied before. The first thing he saw when they entered the room was the Woody Woodpecker nightlight still plugged in to the outlet on the opposite wall. The familiar glow reminded him of nights spent with the guys when he woke up from nightmares and calmed himself by seeing the light.
Is that what this is? Well, then maybe if I stare at it long 'nough this'll all go 'way 'n' I'll wake up.
"My grandson and his sister are staying overnight here while their father is in Texas taking care of some business for me." Cazador smiled at Murdock. "If you're up to it, I'd like them to meet you tomorrow. I think my grandson will like talking to you."
The pilot nodded weakly, aware he didn't have the strength to follow the businessman around. But he had to make sure Cazador called Hannibal with the directions to the cave and, later when the guys were safely on their way back to the ranch, the military, telling them the same information.
How'm I gonna do that?
"How long will I have to stay here?" he rasped. He wasn't sure what he meant by the question.
Am I a prisoner . . . a hostage . . . a friend? . . . I dunno . . .
"This can be your room for as long as you stay with us, Captain," Cazador said as Hanson eased Murdock down on the bed. "And, I hope, after we get a chance to talk, that will end up being a very long time."