CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
December 10, 1968
Three days felt like years. Face stared at the wall, knees pulled to his chest, wishing for a cigarette. He'd run out the day before. Three days without food, and only the liquor in his locker to drink. Hannibal was playing hardball - and he'd brought the whole team in on it. They were all supposed to leave him alone. They did, though they all seemed a bit confused by the order. Hannibal wasn't explaining himself to them, and Face wasn't about to break his vow of stubborn silence. So they left him alone. They left him to stew and suffer until he would finally relent and beg for his freedom. Face grit his teeth at the thought. He would sooner die.
"Hey." Face glanced up at the door as Cipher poked his head in. He just barely caught the canteen that Cipher tossed to him. "Hannibal wants you in the TOC. We're going out."
Finally.
Face stood and opened the canteen, gulping water on his way to the lockers. Cipher watched him warily. "Hey, are you ever gonna tell me what this is about?"
Finished with the water, he tossed the empty canteen back to Cipher before sitting down to put his boots on. "No. Why? Were you expecting me to?"
Cipher folded his arms, brow furrowed as he watched Face tie the boots, then reach for his pack. "Just tell me one more time that whatever the hell is going on between you two, it's not going to go with us on the ground."
Face grabbed his gun from under his bunk and stood. He was ready to go in seconds. "Trust me, Cipher," he said. "I'm not looking to get anybody killed. And neither is Hannibal. It's just a personal matter."
"Your personal matter got pretty public," Cipher reminded, walking a step behind him as he headed out the door. "What the hell did you do to him?"
"I didn't do anything to him," Face answered with a sigh.
"Yeah, bullshit," Cipher snapped. "Hannibal doesn't get mad easy. Especially not in front of a crowd of people."
Face didn't answer. He led the way to the TOC and stepped inside confidently. He offered a quick glance around, not letting his eyes lock with any one of his teammates, before he sat down in one of the chairs against the wall. The situation would only be tense if he allowed it to be. For right now, he was in the position to set the mood.
"Where are we going, Hannibal?" he asked casually.
Hannibal didn't hesitate to follow the "everything is fine" routine. "There's a communication system running up and down this portion of the trail," he said, pointing out the area on the map. "It's too fast and too efficient to be by courier, and too far to be by radio. Which means they've got a line."
"And they want us to shut it down?" Boston guessed.
"They want us to tap it." He glanced at Boston. "I need you and BA to both bring whatever equipment you need to do that. I've already been out there, and I've got a few ideas where we'll find this line. Once we do, I'll set you in two different places to tap in and get the hell out of there. If they find us, or have any indication that we're nosing around the area, they'll stop using the line and the mission is blown. It's got to be fast and it's got to be quiet."
"That's only a few kilometers from here," Cipher observed. "You planning to take a chopper?"
"Choppers aren't exactly quiet, Sergeant."
Cipher nodded. "Right."
"I want everyone geared up and at the gate in fifteen minutes. Pack light and move fast." As the team stood, Hannibal kept his eyes on the map, hunched over the table. "Sergeant Peck, stay here a minute."
Face sat back down, and casually lit a cigarette as the rest of the team filed out. Hannibal waited until they'd gone to look up. "I'm not going to have a problem with you out there, am I?"
Face raised a brow. "Are you expecting a problem?"
"I'm not exactly sure what to expect from you right now," the colonel admitted. "But I can't waste any more time trying to figure it out."
"Well, I guess we're even," Face said bitterly. "I sure as hell wasn't expecting to be accused of going back to drug running."
"Well, there's not a whole hell of a lot I'd put past you anymore," Hannibal retorted. "You've shown me you're capable of just about anything."
Face nodded, and took a drag on his cigarette. "I am," he admitted. "But I'm not the enemy here. Our reputations are staked on each other. That goes for the whole team. And I'm not into sabotage."
Hannibal's eyes narrowed slightly at the unspoken accusation. Face smiled wickedly. For a minute, he'd been afraid that Hannibal wouldn't catch it. "Sabotage?" the colonel repeated, challengingly.
"Putting my own selfish gain above the welfare of the team?" Face took another drag, keeping his eyes on Hannibal. "Yeah, I'd call that sabotage."
Hannibal stood straighter. Face's smile remained in place as he rose to his feet and grabbed his pack and his gun. "You know, Cipher seems to think that if I just gave you a chance to explain yourself, it would all make sense and everything would be okay. Maybe I'd even learn to trust you."
Hannibal's eyes remained cold. "If you're looking for an explanation, you've really gone about it the wrong way."
Face shook his head. "I don't care what your reasons are. Not any more than you would care about mine if I started running drugs again." He paused, and his eyes narrowed at Hannibal. "The difference is, I'm not running drugs. And you are fucking the general's wife."
"Elaine has gone back to the States already," Hannibal pointed out. "If you think I have any intention of flying over there to see her, you're out of your mind."
"No," Face granted. "But you fucked her when she was here, and that was less than a week ago. I need a little bit longer than that to start respecting you again. Let alone trusting you."
Face turned and headed for the door, but he only made it halfway before Hannibal's voice stopped him. "Respect?"
Face paused, and took a drag on his cigarette, but didn't look back. Clearly, he'd hit a nerve. That tone was closer to unbridled fury than anything he'd heard thus far.
"Do you have any idea what I had to go through to get you on this team?" Hannibal challenged, slowly walking around the table. "And you are good, kid. You're damn good on the ground. But you are one sorry fucking excuse for a human being - let alone a soldier - if you think that you don't owe me at least your respect."
Face turned and looked at him, cold eyes locked hard. But he didn't speak.
"You would be rotting in a military prison right now, Sergeant," Hannibal continued quietly. "And if that's what you want, it can be arranged. But don't you dare stand there and tell me that I am not worthy of your respect - or your trust - when I have never let you down!"
Face didn't look away. After a moment of tense silence, Hannibal took a few steps to the door, then turned back. "I have had your back since before you even knew my name - in the field, and on the base, and before every soldier and every citizen in this goddamn country. I have always stepped in front of the bullet for you."
"As long as it suited you," Face said coldly.
Hannibal had more to say. But he swallowed it. Fists clenched tightly as if in a desperate attempt to hold on to his self-control, he turned and walked out of the TOC wordlessly, slamming the door shut behind him.
August 30, 1978
Face wasn't sure whether he was more annoyed by Jessica's ceaseless ranting at her ex-husband or Paulie's anxious repetition of, "This ain't a good place," every time he had a moment of silence. Even if it hadn't been the mantra of a tweaking drug addict, it was still not something Face needed to hear on a loop, over and over and over. Besides, he could really use a bit of silence right now.
In the back of his mind, where he wouldn't allow his conscious thought to go, he was already considering his options for if they had to move before Murdock called. This really wasn't exactly the safest place to hang out. But until that phone rang, he couldn't know where to meet up with his team. He didn't want to get any further separated than they already were. When BA got his nice van, he was going to have to figure out some way to get a phone in there - or a long distance radio. Anything that would make it so that they didn't have to rely on public phones...
"How will Murdock even know we're here?" Jessica asked anxiously, staring at the pay phone with the same intensity as Face, wishing it to ring.
"When those guys either turn up without us or don't turn up at all," Face answered simply.
She winced at the response a little more vague than she'd been hoping for. "That could be a while," she said under her breath.
Face sighed. "Could be," he agreed with some irritation. He bit back the comment about how he was sure she'd appreciate the extra time to vent all her built-up angst at her ex.
"We should get out of here, man," Paulie muttered, shifting as his hand gravitated toward the door handle, as if he was getting ready to run. "This ain't a good place to be. This ain't a good place."
Again, Face sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, holding his head. "We should've let them take him," he said with deep regret - for more reasons than one.
"What!" Paulie, still confused about the entire scenario, had at least enough sense to figure out that being taken by "them" wouldn't have been his choice.
"Why?" Jessica asked much more calmly.
"Because we could've followed them," Face answered, focusing again on the phone. "They would've taken him to their boss."
"They would've killed me!" Paulie cried.
Jessica growled audibly. "And you would've deserved it."
"Hey, I didn't ask for that," Paulie snapped back with the tone that warned of another building argument. One would've thought he had enough sobriety by now to know that anything he said was likely to set Jessica off. But the more lucid he became, the more he stuck his foot in his mouth.
"I didn't exactly ask for my house to get blown up, either!" she snarled at him.
Paulie scoffed, in a patronizing move Face hadn't seen him use thus far. "I'll buy you a new house!"
Jessica's eyes filled with fire as she gaped for a moment before finding words. "Where the hell do you think -"
"Hey!" She stopped mid-sentence as Face glared at her. "Knock it off, will you? You guys are giving me a headache."
"It ain't a good place," Paulie muttered, wringing his hands.
"Paulie?" Jessica snapped. "Shut up."
"What are we doin' here?" he continued, ignoring her. "We shouldn't be here, man."
Taking a slow breath and resisting the urge to rise to the bait, Jessica leaned forward, towards the driver's seat. "It has been a long time." By Face's count, it had been twenty-two minutes, and thirty seconds of pure hell. "What if something happened to them?"
"We still have to wait for contact," he said firmly. "Otherwise, we don't even know where to start looking."
"Maybe someone inside knows," she suggested. In the mirror, he saw her eyes flicker with anger. "Maybe we should send Paulie in there to find out!"
"No way!" Paulie cried with a wide-eyed look of pure terror. "I ain't goin' near that place!"
Face sighed again, studying the bar. "We can't go in there," he determined. He was prepared to do that only as a last resort. "Any one of us could be recognized. Too risky."
"Well, if they got Paulie," Jessica continued thoughtfully, "wouldn't they logically take him to wherever they took the others?"
"No way, Jessie!" he cried. "D'you know what they'd do to me?"
"It isn't a guarantee," Face answered, ignoring him. It was the other half of his last resort plan, but she didn't need to know that.
"It wouldn't have been a guarantee at the condo, either," she pointed out, "and you said we should've left him there."
Face smiled politely. "The greater benefit of leaving him at the condo would have been lengthy bout of domestic bickering it would've saved us all."
"You actually would've left me at that condo?" Paulie asked shakily. "You would've left me there to die?"
She glared daggers at him. "You left my children to die when your gambling buddies blew up my house."
Face put one hand over his eyes, his elbow on the steering wheel. "Oh, please, not again," he begged. Every time they stopped, they started again just moments later. He was ready to tell them both to get out of the car, bad guys or no. Maybe he'd get out. Maybe it really was a good idea for him to walk into that bar. After all, the worst they could do in there was shoot him.
December 10, 1968
Face stopped suddenly, snapped his fingers twice, and froze. Everyone in front of him stopped as well, and looked back over their shoulders at where he was standing stock still. He scanned his surroundings carefully, not even entirely sure what he'd seen/heard/smelled that had made him stop. His senses caught up with his subconscious several seconds later. Voices behind him. He made a signal, and turned, weapon pointed in the direction he'd just come from. Nothing moved. His eyes narrowed. He could still hear them. Where were they?
He stepped forward slowly. If the enemy was nearby, he wanted to know where. He didn't like them being close enough to hear and still out of sight. If they were close enough to hear, they were close enough to kill.
He stepped back slowly, carefully, three paces back from where he'd come to a stop. Left. There was a large, fallen tree ten yards from the path their trampling boots had created. He approached it cautiously, gun ready, swinging wide and hiding with every step. That was where they were - sitting on the ground with their backs to the opposite side of it. It was large enough to block them from view.
He dropped carefully to the ground as he caught a glimpse of them. There were only three. He eyed them carefully for a long moment, and glanced up as he saw Hannibal approach. Pressing down to the ground beside him, Hannibal leaned in to hiss into his ear. "What the hell are you doing? Let's go!"
"There's only three of them," Face protested.
"Yeah, and where there's three, there's more," Hannibal whispered. "We've got a job to do and we can't be seen. So move it, Sergeant!"
As Hannibal waited for compliance, Face looked out again at the three men. Their guns were on the ground - within reach, but it would take them a minute. Face had the advantage. He shook his head as he put his hands under him and pushed up, readying his gun. "No."
"Face! Dammit!"
They heard Hannibal's angry hiss at the same time they saw Face's gun pointed straight at them. "Hi." Face greeted with a smile. "You are all now POWs."
Two of them reached for their guns. The remaining soldier was sprayed with their blood as Face fired several bursts, then turned the gun to point it straight at his head. "Try it," Face threatened, through gritted teeth.
The man's eyes were wide and frightened. He slowly raised his arms in surrender.
Face glanced around quickly. Hannibal was standing beside him now, and he stepped forward to jerk the NVA soldier to his feet at the same time that Cipher and BA stepped through the foliage, responding to the shots.
"Great job, Sergeant," Hannibal shot angrily. "What the hell are we supposed to do with him now?"
"He and I are gonna have a talk." Face stepped forward, the hot barrel of the gun under the man's throat. "After that, I don't really care."
As Hannibal stared at him, Cipher turned and gestured for the translator to come closer. He responded quickly.
"Alright, Face," Hannibal said with evident distaste. "Since you seem to be calling your own shots, here. He's your prisoner. Have at it." Hannibal shoved the man forward, into Face, and it took them both a moment to regain their balance.
"I'm looking for a man." Face paused as the translator relayed quickly. "An American. His name is Devon Young and he's a sergeant with the US Army."
"Fucking -" Hannibal threw up his hands in frustrated fury, paced a few steps, then put a hand over his face as he turned back. "Jesus Christ, Face!"
"He was captured not far from here," Face continued, ignoring him. "Where is he?"
The man shook his head frantically, and rambled quickly in Vietnamese. Face shoved his CAR-15 aside and grabbed the pistol from his thigh. A single shot put a bullet in the soldier's arm - his dominant arm, if the placement of his gun was any indication. Two birds with one stone - and he screamed in pain. Cipher jumped back and stood, wide eyed, next to Boston.
"Face!" Boston cried. "What the hell!"
Hannibal didn't flinch, but glared steadily at Face.
Face didn't have to ask again. "He says there is a camp," the translator relayed, "not far from here. There are Americans there. He does not know how many, or if your friend is one of them."
"Lucky for you, you got your memory back," Face sneered. "Now I just hope you can remember how to get there." He stepped back, grabbed the man's unhurt shoulder, and shoved him in Hannibal's direction. The colonel stepped out of the way.
"Start walking," Face ordered the prisoner roughly. "Make sure you let us know when we're starting to get close. And if you try any-fucking-thing, I will blow you away right where you stand. Frankly, I'd rather have you dead than alive right now anyways."
Face could feel Cipher and Boston both staring at him in shock as he put the pistol back on his thigh. With a quick glare at Hannibal, Face readied his CAR-15 with the barrel against the prisoner's spine, and started walking. A few exchanged glances, and Cipher caught up with him a few steps later.
"I knew Devon Young, Face," Cipher said quietly. "He didn't go down anywhere near here."
"He knows that," Hannibal shot. "He knows it damn well."
"What the fuck are you playing at?" Cipher whispered, thoroughly confused.
Face ignored them both as he put one foot in front of the other, following the prisoner slowly, eyes out of focus.