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More About Face
By Clairon
Rating: R
Type: Slash/Angst/Adventure
Pairing: Face/Murdock…
eventually….maybe!
Summary: Done my ideas on how the A Team came into
being in ‘About Face’. Now here is my
take on why it fell apart! The time is
now…….
Warnings/Content: Contains
male/male SLASH plus torture and drug abuse.
Also some full-bodied soldier type language. ….Oh and maybe even a major character death….
Who can tell?
Disclaimer: I do not own
the A-Team characters and am making no profit from this story, which is a work
of fan fiction only.
Thanks: Becky and Benedict
…………………
MORE ABOUT FACE
Part One
Amy Allen paused
on the threshold before entering the restaurant. Her eyes swept over the tables swiftly. It was lunchtime, a busy time for this chic
place and it was filled with sweet young things and nameless grey suits. Her eyes swept over them all from the
peroxide blondes to the bald shiny palates; none of them belonged to the one
she sought. She followed the maitre’d as
indicated through the heaving throng and out into the bright and airy
conservatory.
She hesitated
again as her eyes fell on the features she was looking for, still striking and
yet somehow different from the image in her memory. He was dressed in an impeccable powder blue
suit, his hair shorter than she remembered and darker, save for the significant
streaks of grey at his temples. She
moved toward him and he looked up as if sensing her presence. Again she was struck by the difference in the
man, so subtle, so difficult to define, to put a name to but still obvious to
her; it had been a long time it was true and she had feared such a change would
be evident.
Ever the
gentleman, he stood to greet her and smiled but his eyes remained distant and
cold.
“Face, it’s good to
see you,” she purred, as she kissed the air beside his cheek as was required in
a place like this.
“How’s the
family?” he asked as they sat back down, his voice clipped, revealing nothing.
“They’re fine, I
have photos!” she replied diving into her bag.
“Chloe will be graduating next summer.”
He whistled
through his teeth and shook his head slightly.
“All ready?” he asked, bemused as he glanced at the photos and then
returned them to her uncomfortably quickly.
“I thought she would be seven, eight at the most.”
Amy smiled. “Time is passing by, Face!”
She ordered a soda
then and he took a re-fill to the whiskey he had drunk as he waited. She eyed him minutely, trying to decipher
what the difference was.
“So,” he
began. “What can I do for you, Amy?”
“It’s more what I
can do for you, Face.” She had played
this moment over in her head, but the practise had made it no easier. “Hannibal asked me to talk to you.”
“Hannibal?” There was a visible reaction, almost a
retraction away from her, back into the safety of his seat.
She pressed on
ignoring it. “He’s worried about you.”
“Worried about
me?” The tone was controlled so tightly any hint of emotion had been wrung from
it but Amy sensed it was there hidden deeply below. Face looked away. “You must have got him in one of his more
lucid moments then!” Now there was a
definite bitterness biting hard and she noticed his fists squeeze tightly but
impotently on the table before her.
Amy lifted her own
hands to lay across his, feeling the flinch the contact brought him but
choosing to disregard it. “How are you
really, Face?”
He gulped then,
moving his hands away from hers, he placed them beneath the table and out of
sight. He refused to look at her. “Good,” he responded softly and with no
conviction.
She shook her
head. “The same old Face; still hiding
behind your masks. Would it really hurt
so much to let your defences down?”
His eyes came back
to hers then, blue and bottomless and then she realised that was the difference;
eyes once so welcoming and warm were now dull and bleak like a winter’s
day. And his voice, when it came, bore
the same forlorn note. “You know I can’t
do that – they are all I have left,” he said.
She shivered. “I don’t believe that. Look at you, you are still a very attractive
man. I like your hair, the grey looks
very distinguished. You can still turn
heads, I know it!”
He snorted
then. “The only heads I turn are the
wrinkled and blue rinsed variety!” One hand came back into sight as it took up
his glass and raised it to his mouth. He
took a long gulp of the fiery liquid before continuing, “Conmen should never
grow old, Amy.”
“You’re not old,
Face!”
He shook his head,
looking down wistfully as he swirled the brown blended liquid in his
glass. “It feels that way. Sometimes I glance in a shop window and I
think, who is that old guy, is he following me or what? And then I realise it’s me but hell I still
feel like I did when I was eighteen.” He
shook his head, his features looked lost more than angry. “I’m losing it.”
“I don’t believe
that, not for a minute.”
The waiter brought
their food at that point and Amy started to eat. After some minutes she noticed that Face was
not eating but simply chasing his food around the plate. “You gonna eat that?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Not hungry.”
And took another gulp of whiskey.
“Thirsty though?”
Amy pushed.
“You could say
that,” he signalled to the waiter for a re-fill.
Amy watched him
for a few seconds as she cast about for something more to say. “You’re not losing it, Face. Scams go wrong sometimes. Murdock told me about the last one.”
He looked up at
that. “Murdock told you?” She nodded.
“He worried about me too?” His
voice was prickly.
She nodded
again. He shook his head. “I never knew you all cared so deeply or
talked about me behind my back so readily,” he muttered indignantly. “Did he also tell you I copped a plea and got
a suspended sentence? And that the lady
in question’s grandson, grandson get that, is going to rip my head off next
time he sees me?”
“So it was a bad
judgement, Face. It’s not the
first. We all do it; it’s part of being
human. You can’t control it all. I don’t understand why you’re beating
yourself up about it; you made a bad call, you accept the punishment. Time was you would just put it behind you and
move on.”
He snorted. “Time was I had everything in front of me,
now I pushed so much behind me the space is all filled up and it’s spilling out
to haunt me.”
“You’re a good
man, Templeton Peck,” Amy said. “Why
have you always found it so hard to believe?”
“It’s no good,
Amy,” His smile was tight and uncompromising as he skilfully slid behind his
barriers. “I appreciate what you’re
trying to do but there is no need, really.”
She looked into those
blue eyes and the memory of the warmth of the man they had once belonged to
forced her to carry on. “Think of all
the people you have helped, Face. You
have done good things!”
He sighed. “The past doesn’t matter especially since I
only did those things for the Team, for Hannibal. Deep down I have always known what I am. It just hurts that now the world knows it
too. I never thought about growing old,
of being alone, maybe if I’d realised then how scared it would make me, I would
have chosen differently. But I can’t go
back now. All I can do is live with it.”
Amy placed her
knife and fork on her plate gently.
“You’re tired, Face. You need a
break. Hell, it’s been a tough couple of
months for you, what with Hannibal, losing your job and the court case. Come and stay with me for a while, there’s
nothing spoiling here.”
Peck looked down
at his hands, clutched them into fists.
“I’m not leaving Hannibal,” he said grimly. “I owe him that much at least.”
“But it’s wearing
you out, Face,” Amy kept her voice as patient as she could. “Just a couple of days won’t make a
difference – he’ll understand.”
“No, he won’t!”
Peck’s voice was suddenly so loud the other clients in the restaurant threw him
curious glances. The moment’s lapse was
just as quickly controlled and he let out a long breath before looking up at
Amy’s sympathetic glance. “You don’t
understand.”
“OK,” Amy kept the
shock at the ferocity of his reaction from her voice. “At least take tomorrow off. I’ll go and see Hannibal and you can take a
break.” He nodded slowly as she
continued. “What about the others?”
“They’ve done all
they can.” He shrugged. “BA’s got his
family and he’s had to go back to Chicago – his mother is not doing well and
Murdock has had to work all the hours in the day to get his business off the
ground.” His eyes flickered with warmth
briefly as he said. “No pun intended.”
Amy smiled. “You got him the plane, didn’t you?”
Face nodded. “To begin with, yeah. But he’s doing so well, he’s gone legit and
bought himself a brand new one.” He
shook his head. “Funny that mad HM has
coped better with everything than the rest of us. Still, he only ever needed to fly to be
really happy.”
“And you Face,” Amy
asked. “What would make you really
happy?”
His eyes were
drawn to the next table where a family of four had just sat down. Their appearance was somewhat incongruous in
this restaurant as if they had taken a wrong turn on the way to McDonalds but
they seemed unconcerned. The father, a
few years younger than Peck, was scowling at the menu while the mother fussed
about with napkins for the kids. One of
them was lost in a PSP game, biting his lip as he put his whole soul into his
art, the other argued about his need for the lace serviette currently being
stuffed into his shirt neck by the mother.
Peck sighed and
looked back to Amy. “Doesn’t matter,” he
said softly. “I had it once but it will
never be again.”
They sat in
silence for a while and then Face shifted uncomfortably on his seat. “Listen Amy,” he began with a little of the
old whine in his voice. “You weren’t
wrong when you said I‘ve had a tough couple of months. Thing is I …” he hesitated.
“Templeton Peck,”
Amy breathed. “You are not trying to run
a scam on me, are you?”
“Me? Would I?
Hell no – there’s no scam,” His head dropped forwards. “There’s no money either. See I got a big fine and I lost my job and…”
“What about your
army pension?”
“Goes on the rent
of my apartment, that and the car…”
“You’re paying
rent? And you bought a car!”
He nodded
sheepishly. “I don’t do that scamming
stuff, not any more. I can’t, can’t risk
it. I’m out here all on my own, with
nobody to watch my back and I know that I can’t cut it, not in jail. Murdock’s not the only one that’s gone
legitimate although for very different reasons.”
Amy stared at him,
really not knowing whether she believed this new ‘honest’ Templeton Peck or
not. He seemed sincere enough but….
“Anyway,” he
continued. “This is an expensive place
and I…”
Amy raised her
hands in surrender. “It’s OK, Face,” she
said. “I invited you remember and it’s
not as if you’ve eaten anything anyway.”
“But I should, I
mean a lady….”
“Don’t show me
your Neanderthal streak Face! This is a
new century and men don’t have to pay for everything. And you know I was never a lady! I’ll get the check – my treat.”
“I ran up a tab at
the bar, while I waited,” he confessed shamefacedly. “But I could….”
“What you should
have done is eaten some of this delicious food, Face. If you’re this strapped for cash you need
it! But don’t worry I said I’ll pay and
I will.”
******************************************************
Part Two
The following day
Face waited in the parking lot of the care home for Amy Allen to show. He had agreed with her as they left the
restaurant the night before that he would take the day off and have a break
from visiting the home but he had slipped into his usual schedule when he woke
up without thinking and had found himself at the home regardless of his
promise.
So he waited,
hating the times when he had nothing to do but wait, wait and think because
that was when the memories came back bringing with them the bite of bitterness
and guilt.
He remembered how
it had been. How it had felt to be at
the top of his game, to be needed, valued, trusted and the loss of such a
position was a physical pain to him. How
he longed to feel such intensity, such heat again.
When Hannibal had
been in control things had been so easy and Face would have given anything,
everything for his Colonel but it had all fallen apart so quickly when Hannibal
began to lose his grip. Looking back the
signs had been there, as their luck changed – suddenly plans did not work out
and the required adjustments were too hard to make. Hannibal seemed to lose focus at critical
times, forget what was going on, became confused and panicked. With their leader strangely fallible the rest
of the Team began to lose trust in themselves and each other. Face guessed that’s what growing old was all
about – things no longer came easily, the slick Team was suddenly disjointed
and imperfect.
They tried, Lord
they tried, but something magical had been lost and remained elusively out of
their grasp. There were still good times
too it was true, like the day they finally received their pardons and the
ensuing media frenzy. Face had loved
being the celebratory he had always dreamed of.
He did Oprah and Letterman; he gave everyone the piece of him that they
demanded. There was talk of a book, a TV
series and even a movie. Face had
believed it, allowing himself to be engulfed by the wonder of it all, becoming
the bright eyed naïve boy he had hidden so deeply following the horrors of
Nam. He had wanted it so badly, had
glimpsed tantalising touches of it through his life that to have himself thrust
into it so deeply made him lose all sense of self preservation. It made it so much more difficult for him to
recover his balance when the bubble finally burst.
He did not know
when it happened, could not pinpoint exactly the moment but slowly it dawned on
him that nothing he was being promised was being delivered, book deals fell
through, people did not return his calls, the press no longer stalked him, he
couldn’t get a table in exclusive restaurants… and the final straw was when he
heard the rumour the suits had decided his character would be played by a girl
in the upcoming film. How could Faceman
be a girl! Everything had gone cold and
stale. Nobody wanted him anymore.
Seeing his pain and
knowing its source, Murdock had offered to write the real story with his friend
but by then it was too late, fantasy had been shattered by cold reality. Deep down inside of Peck the cynical conman
had laughed bitterly and pushing to the surface with the words ‘I told you so’
had forced the kid away forever.
It was not so for
the other Team members for they had not embraced the media adulation like
Peck. Hannibal particularly, had become
increasingly withdrawn; he did not seem to want his pardon and never formally
accepted it. It was as if the wily old
Colonel saw the truth – legitimacy changed things irrevocably. And with the realisation Hannibal appeared to
lose even more of his focus. No one said
he had given up, no one would voice such disloyalty but with the benefit of
hindsight, Face could see that was exactly what he had done. And Peck did not blame his mentor one little
bit; in fact he quite envied the old soldier his release for worse was to come.
It was the summer
of 1987 and taking their A Team earnings plus the pay off from the Government
they received on their pardons, Peck invested heavily in the soaring stock
market. The bitterness that gnawed at him following the loss of his fame
enflamed him and made him bold; he played the margins with not only his but
also the rest of the Team’s money, loving the power and ignoring the risks
until Monday 19 October dawned and Peck was brutally reminded of his
fallibility once more. On Black Monday
the Dow Jones plummeted 508 points, losing 22.6% of its total value and along
with many others Peck lost everything.
The rest of the
Team did not blame him outright. They
mumbled platitudes about still having their army pensions, about being
comfortable anyway and needing to find work but Peck sensed the hostility, saw
the coldness in their eyes when they looked on him whether it was truly there
or not and vilified himself with his failure.
Hannibal was not well enough to pull them back together at that time and
so they finally fell apart. No more
missions, no togetherness and no future; they went their separate ways, still
keeping in touch but acquaintances more than friends. And to add to Peck’s guilt was the reality
that his greed and selfishness had accomplished what so many villains and
slimeballs had failed to achieve – he had destroyed the A Team!
It was only right
that since it was all his fault, Peck should be the one who took on the onerous
task of looking after the increasingly infirmed Colonel. The years of responsibility and stress had
finally taken their toll and Smith was suddenly an old man. His body seemed frail and weak but his mind
was of more concern, his forgetfulness changed to confusion and he was
diagnosed as being in the throes of dementia.
Peck remembered the feeling of complete hopelessness when the doctor had
told him. How could it be? Not the great
Hannibal Smith; surely it was a big horrible mistake.
But it was not and
the Colonel’s behaviour became increasingly difficult and bizarre as he slipped
into the chasm of senility. Face did all
he could, while trying to hold down a full time job selling real estate out in
the suburbs, getting slowly more scared and desperate as everything he held
dear slid away. BA and Murdock helped
out too but they had made other lives for themselves – BA at the Day Centre and
Murdock with his business.
Money was tight and
Peck’s pride would not allow him to ask for help and so he struggled on. Once he had found Hannibal wandering on the
freeway in the middle of the night, barking orders to imaginary men. The temptation of a scam just to help out
with the medical bills and to allow Face the chance to give up his job so he
could care for the Colonel full time was too much for him to resist. He had met a rich old widow through work who
seemed to take a shine to him, invited him around to her mansion, and doted
over him. It all spiralled out of
control after that; what he meant to be a quick liaison for cash turned into
something more dangerous when she changed her will and told her family she was
going to marry him. They were suitably
outraged and the resulting court case had left Peck emotionally, financially
and physically shattered, not to mention with a suspended sentence hanging over
him for three years. The authorities
removed Hannibal from his ‘undesirable care’ to the nursing home.
It had been a
stupid risk that he should not have entertained but it was something Peck would
have pulled off with ease in his youth.
The fact that it had lost control and ended so catastrophically only
served to worsen his depression and plunge his confidence to an even lower
ebb. He had promised himself he would
never attempt anything like it again but with that promise came the horrifying
realisation that if he could not do that, there was nothing that he could
do! Old insecurities long since pressed
away to the dark recesses of his mind began to reassert themselves and develop
unchecked.
So now he spent his
days watching over Hannibal, acquiescing completely to the old soldier’s
demands and trying not to remember what had once been but time like this, when
he thought on it, gave the bitterness chance to emerge.
Gratefully he got
out of his car as Amy pulled into the lot.
As she moved towards him she cast a curious glance past him to his car –
a conservative little hatchback from Japan or was it Korea? He could never find the heart to care;
Corvette it certainly was not. Her eyes
moved back to him, taking note of his denim shirt and jeans, just a little too
faded and certainly not designer labelled.
She said nothing but smiled warmly.
“I thought you were
having a day off,” she said finally as he stood uncertainly before her.
He shrugged
disarmingly. “Couldn’t think of anything
else to do,” he muttered. “Besides
Hannibal wanted more cigars.” He showed
her the box of expensive Havanas he carried.
“I’m surprised they
let him have them in here,” Amy responded.
His smile was wide
with just a hint of the confidence that had once oozed from it. “They don’t but
it’s about the only scam I can pull off now. Shall we go in?”
***************************************************
“Not the best
lieutenant I had, no sir,” Hannibal drawled.
“That was Smudge Marks. He was
class and I miss him.” Amy glanced over to Face who shrugged as if he had heard
the criticism many times and simply accepted it. The gesture was lost on the Colonel who
continued. “Need to whip this one into
shape. He tries but…” he leaned closer
towards Amy and spoke in a grating stage whisper, “I don’t think he’s got the
capacity! Now Smudge Marks he was more
than capable, downright talented in fact!”
Amy felt herself
flush and tried to think of a change of subject that would deflect the Colonel
from this unjustified attack that Peck seemed unwilling to defend himself
against. “It’s a warm day, maybe we
should go outside for some air,” she settled on finally.
Smith growled. “Not you, lieutenant. The nice lady has come to see me and we don’t
want you sniffing round her. Besides you
got plenty of work to do here, and rest assured I will be checking. Latrines need digging… get to it!”
They left Peck
standing somewhat awkwardly in the lounge area and went out into the warm
sunshine. Amy had difficulty pushing the
wheelchair out through the door but Hannibal offered no help or advise. By the time they had meandered their way
along the stoned path to sit beside the ornamental pond Amy was sweating
profusely and feeling shattered.
“You’re pretty hard
on him,” she said as she bent to apply the chair’s brake.
“He needs it!”
Hannibal replied. “Gotta push him or
he’ll slack. He’s a slacker you
see.” He shook his head morosely. “Conman too; tried to scam a poor old lady
out of her savings. Shouldn’t have had
him in the army; should be in prison!”
“Hannibal you’re
not in the army now and you shouldn’t go around repeating gossip. Face is here because he wants to be, he wants
to look after you. He’s not your
lieutenant any more.”
Blue eyes that had
been almost dead suddenly sparked towards her.
“He is and he always will be,” his voice had lost its aggression and
seemed infinitely sad. “I promised him
that. Kid needed looking after, he could
never manage on his own.” Hannibal
gulped and Amy stared at him, hoping that the new spark would linger but when
his eyes came back to hers they were dulled once more.
His gnarled hands
began to fiddle impotently at the cigar box that Face had given him and had
lain forgotten on the old soldier’s knee.
Amy leaned forward and opened it for him and gave him a cigar. If he was annoyed at his inability to
accomplish such a mundane task, he gave no sign. “Got a light, miss?” he asked instead.
“No, I don’t
smoke,” Amy replied.
“Pity. Looks like that goddamn lieutenant has let me
down again!” He swivelled stiffly in his
chair to glance back over his shoulder the way they had come. “Where the hell is he? Peck?
Peck!”
“Shush,” Amy
chided. “You’re disturbing the duck!”
“Ought to shoot the
bastard!” Hannibal muttered.
Unsure whether he
was talking about Face or the bird that was quacking tunelessly as it paddled
on the pond before them, Amy decided not to enquire further. She was alarmed at the Colonel’s mental
deterioration and the way it manifested itself in his attitude to Face. She now realised the cause of the sadness
that hovered over the younger man like a dark rain cloud; to be forced to watch
his beloved Colonel falter and to be able to give no aid; no wonder Peck was
hurting. Amy felt a rush of frustration
for she could see no way she could help the situation.
As if sensing her
disquiet, Hannibal’s eyes were warm again as they sought hers. “I’m looking after him,” he mumbled. “I got it all sorted. No need to worry!”
“But I do,
Hannibal. He’s not coping, he’s not…..”
“Peck!” Smith’s
voice cut across her. “Peck!”
She saw Face exit
the door they had come out of previously and jog towards them. “Light!” Hannibal demanded as he stopped
before them. Peck nodded and complied. Smith took a long, deep draw, leaned back and
closed his eyes. “Nice,” he breathed out
along with a cloud of smoke.
“Is he like this
all the time?” Amy whispered, stepping
away a little and pulling Peck with her.
He sighed. “He has his moments,” he replied dully.
“But you shouldn’t
have to put up with it, Face!”
“Why not? He doesn’t mean anything by it, he gets
confused that’s all. Besides its no
worse than I suffered in boot camp – I can take it.”
“You’re not in the
army anymore, Face!”
He shook his
head. “But Hannibal thinks he is and if
it makes him happy, what does it matter?”
“It matters because
it doesn’t make you happy!”
“Still here, Peck?”
Hannibal’s eyes were open and icy once more.
“Nothing to do eh? I’ll soon sort
that out.”
Face sighed, his eyes
meeting Amy’s questioning ones.
“Everything that was good in my life came because of Hannibal,” he
hissed. “He was the only one who trusted
me, the only one that gave me a chance and stood by me when I fucked up. I’m not giving up on him, not now.”
“But….”
“Not ever!”
******************************************************
“You have to help,
Murdock!” Amy pleaded.
The pilot snorted,
then pushed past her to continue his examination of the plane in front of
them. “I’ve done all I can, Amy.”
“But you should see
how he is, how he treats Face. It’s not
right.”
“Face is a big boy,
he knows how to look after himself. He
knows he could walk away.”
“But he won’t will
he? You know how he feels about
Hannibal.”
Murdock
sighed. “I know. And I know this is something Faceman has to
do.”
Amy fixed him with
a suspicious stare. “This has nothing to
do with losing your money has it? Some
sort of punishment?” She did not know the
details of what had happened in ’87 but she sure as hell had sensed the fallout
from it.
Murdock shook his
head violently. “Money was never
important!” he snapped.
“Then help please,”
Amy was aware her voice had a pathetic pleading ring but she was getting
desperate. “Cos it’s killing him.”
The lanky pilot turned
back to her then. “No,” he said
firmly. “In fact it’s giving him
something to live for. You know what
really frightens me? What chills me to
the core? What happens when Hannibal is
gone? How the hell is Face gonna cope
with that?”
“That’s why we need
to help him now!”
“Don’t you think
I’ve tried? BA too? Face is one stubborn sucker. And he’s running scared. Hannibal’s condition has forced him to look
over the parapets of the walls he’s been hiding behind for years. And you know what he’s seen? Nothing!
Just a whole lot of nothing.” He
shook his head sadly. “You run away from
commitment too often and it gives up on you.”
“But there must be
something we can do.”
“I’m all out of
ideas, Amy,” he sighed despondently again.
They were silent for a while. Amy
smothered her smile as the pilot finally continued “I’m free tomorrow
afternoon. How about I pop down to talk
to Hannibal. See if I can get him to lay
off Facey a little?”
“That would be good
– I have to get back home tonight. And
you’ll talk to Face?”
“Won’t do any
good.”
“Please try, HM.”
Murdock raised his
hands in surrender. “OK, muchacho. But don’t forget Face feels more indebted to
Hannibal than the rest of us and while we don’t bear him any ill will over the
money fiasco, he sure as hell won’t forgive himself.” He whistled through his teeth. “Oh Faceyman is one complex guy,” he said
wistfully. “Guess that’s why we love him
so!”
******************************************************
Part Three
Clutching the bottle of whiskey tightly to his chest Face stumbled
forwards and allowed himself to tumble onto the softness of his bed; as he did
so he finally allowed the pain that had been threatening to overwhelm him to
take control completely. He groaned.
Drawing a deep breath he tried to concentrate on the bottle before him
but he knew there was no way he had the strength to get it open. Groaning again he ran his free hand over his
body carefully to examine the damage that had been done – aching ribs, bruised
stomach, black eye, split lip …. the familiar results following a beating! Since he made it back to his apartment he had
managed to gulp down a painkiller and now he lay completely still wanting it to
take effect.
But his mind buzzed madly – it had been a strange day! After leaving Amy at the care home, he had
made his way to the local drug store, bought the bottle of whiskey, fully
intending to go home and drink himself into oblivion as he had done in the past
when the pain was too intense to endure.
But things had not quite turned out that way.
As he crossed the street he had noted an ATM and decided on a whim to
check his balance. He had always been
guarded with his money and even though he crucified himself over bankrupting
the A Team he still had a good head for figures and kept a close note of what
he should have. He was shocked to see
that his estimate of what was in his account was way out – amazingly there was
some five grand more than the couple of dollars he knew should be there.
Five thousand dollars! There was
obviously some mistake – somewhere along the line an incorrect figure had been
punched into an indifferent computer. He
thought about going to the bank and enquiring but the pull of the liquor he had
left in his car was stronger. So he
figured that the bank could discover its own mistake without him troubling to
tip them off. He would leave it for now,
maybe check back at the end of the week to ensure it was rectified.
He turned back toward his car and that was when the attackers
struck. A hand came over his shoulder
from behind and Peck was aware of movement to his side. It had been a long time since he had been in
this position but Face’s body had been so used to such a reception that he did
not need to think, he simply reacted. He
banged his elbow into the man behind him’s gut and turned to the guy at his
side.
He was a huge fat man who looked like he had just finished working off
his excess weight at the gym; the sun glistened off the rancid sweat beading
down his bald head. Face looked up into
piggy, squint eyes and knew he would find no mercy here. He punched out hard and the fight was joined.
Peck was quicker and more skilled than the muscle before him and he gave
as good as he got. His attackers
appeared to be unaware of his past, and were expecting an easy target. When it became obvious he was not, their
courage crumbled like the donuts they had savaged at breakfast and they turned
and fled leaving the essence of sweat lingering sickly on the air.
Face found himself kneeling, bleeding in the gutter as adrenaline
thrummed around his body causing a strange and surprising thrill to invigorate
him briefly. Then he tried to stand up
and the pain roared through him. He spat
out blood, wiping his face on his sleeve and forcing his legs to take his
weight.
“You OK, pal?”
Peck nodded, flushing at the attention and pushed through the little
crowd that seemed to have developed around him once the imminent threat of
danger had rolled off. Painfully he
forced his back straight, pushing away the pain and made his way awkwardly to
his car.
He had driven home carefully as his vision was blurred and his head
throbbed. Then it had taken him an
excruciatingly long time to make it up the stairs and into his apartment. After fumbling in the kitchen for a pill,
there was little wonder he collapsed on to the bed. And now he found he could not move at all.
His head was thumping worse and his alarm bells were ringing; he was
missing something important, he needed to think but it hurt too much. Those muggers were not normal, were they
connected with the five grand? Would
they be back? Did they know where he
lived?
The black fog was gradually overtaking his mind, seeping into his
consciousness. His hand feebly let go of
the whiskey bottle and it rolled off the bed to drop with a dull clunk on to
the floor. Face groaned. If he just shut his eyes for a moment ……
******************************************************
“Face!” Murdock
shouted as he banged on the door, less gently than he had done the previous
time. He had a key to his friend’s
apartment but it had been a long time since he had visited and he felt
strangely uncomfortable about letting himself in unannounced.
However when it became
obvious that the door was not going to open without his further intervention,
he took his keys out of his pocket and sorted through them until he found the
one he wanted.
He was slightly
worried about Face. He had spent most of
the day at Hannibal’s care home as he had promised Amy waiting for Peck to
show. Although Hannibal had complained
about his lieutenant’s unreliability, when Murdock checked with the nursing
staff he was told that it was most unusual for Mr Peck not to turn up, in fact
they could not remember a day when he had not been there.
Murdock had decided
to drop by Face’s place to check that he was OK. He had noted Face’s car parked a little
haphazardly outside and made his way upstairs.
Now with no answer Murdock wondered if Face had listened to Amy after
all and had decided to take the day off – Christ knew he deserved it!
He let himself in
quietly, still feeling uneasy. “Face,”
he called. Then he hesitated as his eyes
darted around the basic accommodation. Truth
was he had stopped coming around because he hated it here. He hated the squalid homeliness and normalcy
of the place especially when he remembered that the man capable of scamming
palaces in his past had resorted to living like this and was paying for the
privilege! Murdock could not square the
concept, his Faceman, the man he had loved for years was so much better than
this. Just the thought depressed Murdock
no end.
The living area was
empty and the kitchen also. The pilot
moved forwards, his mind absently noting how neat and tidy everything was. As he moved he caught sight of a pair of
shoes resting on the bed.
“Face!” he
called. There was a groan and the shoes
moved a little. “Face!” Murdock was across the tiny living room and
into the bedroom. He swore under his
breath when he saw the state of the man the shoes belonged to. “What the hell happened?”
Face groaned and
tried to sit up but pain flashed through him.
Murdock knelt beside the bed.
“Face!” he pressed anxiously.
“Murdock?” Face
sighed weakly.
“Stay still,”
Murdock ordered as he shifted into medical technician role, running his hands
carefully over Peck’s battered body to take account of his injuries. “What happened?”
Face snorted. “Mugged,” he managed to get out before his
body spasmed as Murdock touched his ribs.
“Awwwh!”
“Mugged?” Murdock repeated suspiciously. “You?”
Face tried to sit
up again, this time he ignored the pain and forced himself forward. “Easy,” Murdock helped him. “Let me get you sorted.”
“I’m OK.”
“No you’re not. Now just sit still while I get the med
kit.” He hesitated at the door. “You got one?”
“Under the sink,”
Face replied through gritted teeth. He
rubbed his hand over his face, noting the swelling around his left eye, he realised
why he was having difficulty keeping the world in focus. His head was thumping and he felt suddenly
nauseous.
“How long have you
been out?” Murdock asked as he set about cleaning Face’s wounds.
“I don’t know, I’ve
been out remember!” Peck snapped, followed by another “Aaahhh!” as he flinched
again.
“Sorry,” Murdock
muttered. They were silent for a while
as the pilot finished his work. “I think
you’ll live but you have to be the worst patient ever, Face!”
Peck groaned.
“So what did they
get?” Murdock asked as he packed away the medical kit.
“Who?”
“Who? The muggers, of course!”
“Oh, nothing. I fought them off.”
“Nothing. You fought them off?”
Peck snorted. “Is there a parrot in here?”
Murdock batted his
eyelids. “My hero!”
Face snorted
again. “Is there something that you
want?” he asked impatiently.
“Did you hit your
thick head hard in the fight?”
“No, why?”
“’Cos you sure
sound like its mighty sore!”
Face looked as if
he was about to argue but then his features crumpled. “I’m sorry,” he relaxed a little. “I just ….” he stopped.
Murdock stared at
him worriedly. “Yes?” he prompted.
But Peck had
remembered his visit to the ATM the day before.
His eyes narrowed. “Murdock,” he
began, unaware that he had failed to finish his last sentence. “You haven’t given me anything lately have
you?”
“Given you
something?” Murdock repeated
nonplussed. “Like what?”
“Well, your
business is going good, yes?” Murdock
nodded. “So you hadn’t thought to give
me anything in recompense me for helping you?”
“Like what?”
Murdock repeated.
“Well anything…?”
Peck held the other man’s glare expectantly
Murdock let out a
long concerned sigh. “Face, what are you
talking about?”
Peck was getting
exasperated. He did not want to mention
the money and he had hoped that he would not need to. From the bewildered expression on the pilot’s
face he had no idea what Face was talking about and he was getting increasingly
worried about his friend. Peck
considered telling him what was going on but something stopped him. Maybe he had got it all wrong, was he
overreacting? Suddenly he knew he had to
check.
“Murdock, will you
do me a favour?” he asked. Murdock
nodded. “I’m not seeing too good. Will you give me a ride?”
“A ride?
“Yeah. I need to go to an ATM.”
“Face, I got
cash. How much do you need?”
“I don’t want your
money, HM. I need to go to an ATM.”
Murdock’s eyes
narrowed. “Face do you want to tell me
what is going on? You’re acting mighty
strange.” He remembered Amy’s assessment
that Peck was close to the edge and felt instantly guilty. Had he really allowed his friend to get into
this state and not seen it coming?
Painfully Peck
pulled himself off the bed. “I need to
clean up,” he said. “And to change. Wait for me.”
Murdock nodded
bemused and worried by this strange behaviour.
He did not understand but he promised himself he was going to get to the
bottom of this and if Faceman had to get to an ATM, even when he should be
sleeping off his concussion, so be it!
Half an hour later,
Murdock was not so sure. He glanced at
Face beside him in the car. He was
holding himself together only by the force of his will and Murdock could sense
the effort it was taking his friend.
“You OK?” he asked.
“Fine,” Peck
snapped back too quickly. His face where
it was not bruised and cut was deathly pale.
“Stop here,” he said.
“Face, I’ll…”
Murdock tried again.
“I’ll be back in a
minute,” Face ignored him and stepped stiffly out of the car. He made his way to the ATM, Murdock watching
him closely; knowing from the tautness of his body that Face was hurting bad,
wanting to go across and help him but knowing that that was the worst thing he
could do in the circumstances as Face would simply close himself off.
Face inserted his
card and clicked in the number. Pressing
the button to request a balance enquiry, he felt sure that he would see the
mistake had been rectified or even that he had imagined it in the first
place! His body was aching and he wanted
nothing more than to succumb to the darkness that hovered at the edges of his
consciousness. He steadied himself by
reaching out a hand to grasp the wall as the machine clicked busily in front of
him.
Numbers flashed up
on to the screen. Ignoring the flash of
nausea that rushed up from his gut, he forced his eyes to concentrate on the
figures, to squeeze them down from the jumping, moving shadows into clear,
distinct digits. He let out a long
breath as he finally deciphered the information. His legs felt weak and he only
remained standing by leaning forward and resting his head next to his hands on
the wall.
He had been
mistaken; there was not an unaccounted for five grand in his account, not now
anyway….
…………Now there was
an extra ten thousand dollars!
******************************************************
Part Four
“So you gonna tell
me what is going on, Face? Or do I have
to beat it out of you?” Murdock was
pacing in Peck’s front room, it was difficult to achieve the effect he had hoped
for because two of his lanky strides took him to the opposite wall and he had
to turn and start again.
Peck was sitting on
the minute sofa, a glass of whiskey in his hand, looking small and infinitely
vulnerable but he was determined he was not going to say anything, not until he
had a chance to think things through.
Instead he knew he would have to gripe or the pilot would suspect even
more.
“I don’t know what
you’re talking about, HM!” He tried for a whine but his voice came out as
nearer to just plain weary.
Murdock spun around
to face him. “Don’t give me that!” he
snapped. “Something really spooked you
at that ATM. You were pale before you got
there, once you did you were a ghost!”
“I just got my
figures mixed up,” Peck tried for a hesitant light giggle but failed. “Got less in there than I figured.”
“Bullshit!” Murdock
was getting irritated. “I’ve known you
too long, Templeton! You got the best
head for figures I know – you don’t make mistakes on your own money!”
“No, I only make
them when the whole Team’s is at risk!”
“That’s not what I
meant and you know it. No body blames
you for that, Face and I am sick of telling you. Let it go – we all have.” As he spoke Murdock moved to the window and
glanced out at the road below. Something
grabbed his attention and he stared avidly for a few minutes.
Peck took the time
to take another gulp of whiskey. He was
tired and in pain and did not think he had the stamina to survive an
interrogation from Murdock.
Finally the pilot
turned back from the window. “I don’t
believe you, Face,” he said bluntly.
“And I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on. You can start by explaining to me why there’s
a black Lincoln parked down the road staking you out!”
“A what?” Peck
exclaimed, standing up and then sitting back with a howl as pain echoed through
him. He stood up more slowly and made
his way to the window. Sure enough the
car was there. “It could be watching
anyone in this block,” he murmured. But
he knew that this changed things. There
was danger here and he did not have the strength to face it alone.
“Just because
you’ve paranoid doesn’t mean that people aren’t really following you!” Murdock
recited.
Despite his
consternation Face snorted. “The old
ones are the best, eh HM?”
Murdock nodded
solemnly “They have the longevity of true wit!” he confirmed. “So spill, Face. What is going on?”
Peck eased himself
down on to the couch carefully after refilling his glass and passing Murdoch
his own. “I don’t know,” he
confessed. “But weird things are
happening.”
He proceeded to
tell the pilot exactly what had been going on.
He felt stupid as there really was no proof of any of his suspicions but
if he couldn’t tell Murdock, then there was no one he could tell. The pilot sat and listened keenly, nodding
his head at appropriate times.
Peck finished with
a lame; “So it doesn’t make sense and I’m probably imaging it all any way!”
“Your bruises
aren’t imagined, Face and neither is that car in the street. You got one of the best self preservation
instincts I know. If you’re alarms are
ringing, I for one, am definitely taking note.”
“But what do I
do?” Face asked.
Murdock
smiled. “That’s easy,” he responded.
“It is?”
“Oh yeah,
Faceyman. We do what Hannibal would do –
we find out!”
“But how? I don’t know who to ask!”
“You know a couple
of years ago, when you and Hannibal did that computing night school course –
‘Hacking for Criminals’ and I laughed at you?”
“It wasn’t called
that, Murdock, but I remember,” Face replied.
“They teach you
about getting into systems and stuff?”
Peck nodded, his eyes widening as the pilot continued. “Well, you told me then it would come in
useful and I shouldn’t have laughed. You
were right.”
Peck shook his
head. “Are you suggesting that I hack
into the bank’s computer to find out what’s going on? Do you realise what would happen to me if
they find out? And don’t forget I’m on
probation from the last scam I tried.”
“Only a worry if
you get caught, Faceman, and you won’t this time.”
“How can you be so
sure?”
“’Cos this time it
won’t just be you. This time I’ll be
there and BA to cover your back. It’ll
almost be like old times!”
Peck gulped. “I don’t know, I ….”
“Faceyman, don’t
stop to think. Don’t let indecision
rule. Your instincts were the best thing
you had; you got to follow them again.
Feel your fear but do it anyway.
Remember the jazz!”
How could he forget
it? Face had been mourning its absence
from his life for so long. He remembered
the strange invigoration and accomplishment he had felt when he had beaten off
yesterday’s muggers. He knew he wanted
it again, wanted to feel it frequently like he used to. He had given himself to the jazz long ago,
trusted his Colonel and been repaid a thousand fold. But this time it was different, his Colonel
could not help him. Was he and the rest
of the Team able to do it on their own?
Were they capable are re-capturing what was lost? Why the hell not? And wouldn’t that be the best way for him to
honour Hannibal Smith?
“You’re right,
Murdock,” he said finally. “We can do
this!” His eyes flashed and for the
first time in years, Murdock was minded of his arrogant, much yearned for young
lieutenant from Vietnam so long before.
Deep down in the pilot’s soul something long forgotten roused and sent a
hot flame of desire rushing through him.
*******************************************************
“Divorced?”
“Eh, no,” Peck
responded. “Never married actually.”
“No way! Gay then?”
“No, well, yes….
No, eh I….”
Mo’s laugh was
infectious. “It’s OK, Richard, you don’t
have to spill the beans – I like a little mystery in my life! And I can’t see that someone like you could
make it to our age without being caught.
Man, us woman have failed badly if that’s the case!”
Face felt himself
blush. “I don’t know what you mean, Mo!”
“Don’t play coy
with me! You are the best piece of eye
candy us mature ladies have seen employed by this Bank in years. Do you know since you started to work here
the sickness rate for women over a certain age has dropped to nothing! They are coming in off their death beds just
to look at your loveliness but unfortunately because they are mooning so, their
productivity rate has not increased accordingly!”
Face smiled. He liked Mo, liked her a lot. She was not the type he would have been
attracted to in the past; sure her face was pretty enough but she was small and
wide. She had introduced herself by
saying ‘In these days of equality I should be the eighth and token woman in
Snow White’s dwarves – Dumpy should be my name!’ But if her ass was big, her heart was twice
the size and her ability to empathise was infinitely huge. Her down-to-earth sense of humour could be
relied upon to bring a smile to Peck’s lips even when he was the butt of her jokes. It was all done with a joy of life and fond
acceptance of its inconsistencies and unfairness that Face was beginning to
realise that somewhere along the line he had forgotten such an important
lesson. He had become starchy and solemn
– no wonder no one wanted to be with him!
Be it ever so gently Mo was drawing him back into the warmth of the real
world while he had recently only sulked in its austere funless outer edges.
He had been working
at the Bank’s head office for a week, having taken a few days beforehand to
thoroughly update the life and records of one Richard Bancroft, IT Expert. Mo had taken him under her wing the first day
and their daily lunches spent giggling at work mates and the world in general
had become a pleasure to him. Today was
the first time the conversation had crossed into the personal, however. Mo had told him about her late husband and
how much she missed him but in a light hearted sort of way that had entertained
rather than made Face morose. He had
only started to feel uncomfortable when she switched her focus to his life.
“I’m sure their
work is much more interesting than me,” he replied. “I hope so at least.”
“So
beautiful! So modest!” Mo laughed.
“If you were on the market there is no way you would have got this far
with your freedom – you must be gay!”
Peck rolled his
eyes mischievously. “Classified information!” he teased.
Mo pouted. “Well, if you are going to hide behind this
veneer of mystery you are gonna have to get used to me probing for a weakness,
looking for clues! My gossip monitor is
pointing near empty, I need to re-fill it!
What do you do when they let you out of this place, if you are,
unbelievable as it seems, without a significant other?”
Peck shrugged,
fiddling with a paper cup. “Not
much. I look after my … eh my…
father. He’s not been well recently.”
“I knew it; in
touch with your feminine side too!
Richard, you have got to be the best thing exuding testosterone that ever
walked through those doors!”
He smiled and
stood up. “Well, Mo while you may be a
fully paid up member of my fan club I know that the boss isn’t. I got to go, got reports to run.”
“And industrious
too! Don’t you let Withers get you down
– he is just jealous of you and with good cause!” Mo sighed, her eyes twinkling with humour as
she watched him exit the staff dining area.
“You, my sweet, are just too good to be true!” she muttered wistfully.
“Hey Mo!” A gaggle of ladies were sitting at a nearby
table. They shouted across; “What info
did you get from him this time?”
Peck had almost
finished his interrogation of the computer system, having spent his first day
finding his way around it, he had managed to complete all the work required of
him as well as accessing the areas he needed.
Security was tight but he had expected that; it was a Bank after
all! Once he had worked his way around
the permission levels he found it quite straight forward to get the data he
needed. It was almost time to leave. He would miss the entertaining lunches with
Mo but he knew that the longer he remained undercover, the greater his risk of
being caught.
He had not been
back to his apartment following their quick exit that night. Instead he had been sleeping on Murdock’s
couch. Not that he had seen the pilot
much; he seemed to be flying constantly and Peck had begun to suspect that he
was avoiding him. However, Murdock had
promised he would be back this night and they would go through all of the
information together. The pilot had
contacted BA and he was back in town to give any help he could.
As he sat at his
desk, finishing off his reports, Peck found himself strangely excited by the
thought of seeing Murdock later. When Mo
had teased him about significant others, he had found a vision of his friend
had popped inexplicably into his head.
And now, as he thought about it, Face felt a soft shudder of expectation
somewhere deep down inside.
It was a long time
since he had felt in the slightest bit aroused at anything. He had not been on a date since the ill-fated
tryst with the widow over six months previously. But even so he found himself dreaming about
his friend – memories slipping through his mind warmly and with ease. Memories that went right back to that cold
shower in Nam so many years before. He
remembered the scent of him, the softness of his skin, the lilt of his voice
and Peck found himself smirking idiotically.
“Dick!”
He was pulled out of
his reverie by the departmental supervisor, a supercilious fool who seemed to
take his lack of height out in the bullying way he treated his staff. He insisted on giving him that name, even
though Peck had asked on numerous occasions that he call him Richard. Just the sound of the voice shattered the
lingering warmth of the memory.
“Mr Withers?” Face
responded, turning his chair to watch the fat rat of a man approach; all
bluster, no humanity.
“You got those
reports?”
“Yes, I do.” Peck passed across a whole ream of
papers. “I still think it would be
better if we did it all electronically,” he ventured with a charming smile.
“If I wanted your
suggestions, I’d have set up a box in the foyer!” Withers snapped, scanning through the
pages. He didn’t like Peck and he made
no secret of his contempt, always anxious to catch him out, but lacking the
intelligence to do so. “What’s
this?” He pulled a one page report from
the pile and held it out suspiciously.
“What’s what?”
Peck asked innocently.
“This!” Withers thrust the paper into his face.
For a moment
Peck’s heart lurched. Was this the hard
copy of his own account details he had run off earlier? Had he been that dumb? And if it was how in hell was he going to
explain it away to this goddamn idiot?
He squinted at the paper as it flapped in front of his eyes and a wave
of relief washed over him when he realised what it was. “Oh that.
I was just trying to improve the format…” he began.
Withers bent
forwards. “You were just trying to…..
did I ask you to?”
“No but…”
“Then don’t do
it!” Withers’ face was red with
fury. “Your time here is precious – I am
paying for it! I don’t want you wasting
it fooling about. In fact you’ve been
here a week now Bancroft and I don’t think it’s working out. I’m going to have to let you go!”
“What?” Peck
gasped.
“You heard
me. It’s not working out, you’re fired!”
Peck stood
up. “You are not serious!” he spat. “I’ve done everything you asked. I…..”
“I don’t
care! This is my department!” Withers looked up into Peck’s calm features,
his own ugly with anger. “You got five
minutes to clear your desk!”
He did not see the
blow coming but he surely felt it as Face’s fist hit him cleanly and hard on
his jaw. The next moment he was on his
ass leaning against the photocopier groggily.
Everything in the office stopped as people gaped disbelieving what they
had just seen.
“Oh my god!” Mo
breathed.
Peck stood over
his downed supervisor, he felt light headed as the adrenaline whooshed through
him and he realised he was loving it.
“You have got to be the worst excuse for a man I have ever met!” he spat
finally. “Do you have any idea how you
come across to the people you are supposed to manage? Do you have any idea what they think of
you? You are a goddamn fool,
Withers! I don’t know how these good
people can stand being in the same room as you day after day. I know I sure as hell am glad I won’t have to
any more. You can take your lousy job
and stick it where the printer don’t print!”
He picked up a few
papers and his briefcase, winked at Mo, and with great dignity strode out of
the office to a wave of applause from the other workers.
Mo shook her
head. “I knew it was too good to be
true,” she muttered. “Guess those
sickness figures are about to sky rocket!”
****************************************************
“You got fired!”
Murdock howled. “What the hell for?”
“For having a
brain, I think!” Peck responded. “All
the things I was up to and the fool fired me for doing my job, for trying to
improve his antiquated systems.” He
shook his head, bemused. “The world is
mad!”
“You OK, though?”
Peck smiled. “Murdock I haven’t felt this good in
years! I tell you, you should have seen
my right hook, BA you would have been proud of it. Man went down like a … like a…”
“Shit
supervisor?” the pilot ventured.
“Too right!”
Murdock laughed
gleefully. “Faceman, I am so glad you
are taking it this way. I thought you
might…”
“Man was a fool!”
BA snapped. “Deserved what you gave him,
Face. Want me to go back and finish the
job?”
“No BA. Thanks but I think Withers learnt his
lesson. I reckon nobody ever stood up to
him like that before,” Face replied.
“That’s because he
never tried it on a member of the A Team before!” Murdock joined in happily.
They all laughed
for a while but it tailed off. Face was
first to break the ensuing silence. “I
miss him,” his voice was soft with yearning as he glanced around the room as if
searching for their missing member.
“I know,
Faceyman,” Murdock agreed.
“He should be
here,” Peck continued and BA nodded.
Murdock
sighed. “In a way he is. He brought us together, made us what we
are. Just us three being here means that
a part of him is here too. A part that
we’ll always have with us. Come on Face,
tell us what you know so we can come up with a plan worthy of the master!”
“Yeah, tell us,
Face,” BA coaxed, aware of the sudden melancholy that had descended and anxious
to disperse it.
Face sighed. “It’s quite simple,” he began. “Every day for the last week and a bit, five
grand has been automatically transferred into my bank account. I checked officially with the Bank and they
are happy that it’s all legit.”
“Are you sure it’s
not coming from some long, lost Aunt that you never knew you had, Face?”
Murdock asked.
Face rolled his
eyes. “Murdock, this is Templeton Peck,
remember? The original man with no
family; I have no long lost Aunts.
Anyway I know exactly where the money is coming from.”
BA took a sip of
his milk. “Where?”
“Well, I checked
through all the transactions – it’s coming from an off-shore account and
through a number of dummy accounts to launder it but the original source is
right here in LA.”
“In LA!” Murdock whistled. “Who?”
Face took a long
pull of his whiskey, enjoying the moment when everyone’s attention was on
him. “From one James Stephens.”
“Who is he?” BA growled.
“Not James ‘the
Skeleton’ Stephens?” Murdock asked. “So called because everybody who messes with
him disappears only to turn up as a skeleton some time later.”
Face nodded. “The very same,” he confirmed.
BA growled louder
and Murdock shook his head. “He is one
man not to mess with!”
“There’s one more
thing, guys,” Face continued.
“What?”
“Well, it took
time but it wasn’t that difficult to follow the process; any hacker with any
talent whatsoever could track it.”
“Which means?” BA
asked.
Murdock
gulped. “If it was easy for you to find
him….”
“….. it’ll be just
as easy for him to find me,” Face finished, as he fiddled with his tie
nervously.
“You’re being set
up!” Murdock said.
“So why not just
give the money back?” BA asked.
Face sighed
deeply. “I thought about it but it will
take some nifty programming that I didn’t have time for. And anyway, honestly, I could do with the
money.”
“It’s dirty!” BA
scowled.
“Dirty or not it
will pay some bills,” Face muttered.
“Don’t need to pay
bills when you’re dead sucker!” BA scowled distastefully.
“Is this linked to
the muggers?” Murdock asked anxious to get his friends back on track.
Face
shrugged. “Could be, although they were
on to me real quick and haven’t managed to track me down since. Anyway the point is even if I give the money
back the damage is probably done – Stephens must be after me by now. You’re too close to me HM. They might not have caught on yet but sooner
of later even the dumbest goon is going to come looking for me here. So I’ve taken precautions.”
“Precautions?” BA asked.
“I scammed us a new
place,” Face responded.
“You scammed us a
….” Murdock leapt up and started to dance around the room. “Face scammed us a place, Face scammed us a
place!” he sang at the top of his voice.
“Shut up, fool!”
BA shouted. “Where Face?”
“Down in Malibu, on
the beach.”
Murdock let out a
howl of complete ecstasy. “Face scammed
us a place by the ocean blue, down in glorious Malibu!” he sang and then
hopping across the room, he took Face’s cheeks in his hands and he planted a
sloppy kiss on the other man’s startled lips.
“Knock it off,
Murdock!” Face protested but only half-heartedly and his hand moved up to touch
where the pilot’s lips had been.
“Fool!” BA moved
menacingly toward the chanting pilot.
“Shut up or you gonna end up buried beneath six foot of sand under that
ocean blue!”
Murdock pouted and
looked hurt but calmed down a little. He
still, however, kept throwing Face idolising glances which although Peck seemed
to ignore them, made him feel warm inside.
“When do we move,
Face?” BA asked.
“Now,” Peck
responded forcing himself to concentrate.
“It’s only a matter of time until they come calling, and I value my skin
too much to want to meet up with the Skeleton!”
The brooding air
was suddenly cut by the harsh ring of the phone. All three men tensed. Murdock moved to answer it. BA glanced anxiously towards Peck, noting the
worry lines etched around the blue eyes and was the conman’s hand shaking
slightly as he ran it through his grey hair?
As he watched the edginess in his friend seemed to ease as it became
evident from Murdock’s answers that he was talking to a nurse at Hannibal’s
Care Home.
However the
message that was being communicated was bringing further pressures and Murdock
looked strangely subdued as he put down the phone.
“Well?” BA asked.
“Hannibal’s not
doing so good,” Murdock said glumly.
Face was instantly
tense once more. “What’s wrong?” he
asked, leaning forwards, eyes wide.
Murdock
shrugged. “He’s having difficulty
breathing. He’s quite ill.”
“Nurse said he had
a bit of a fever when I went to see him this afternoon,” BA disclosed.
Peck stood
up. “I got to go see him.” Guilt was
washing through him for over the last few days he had been so involved in
things that he had neglected his Colonel.
Truth was that he was feeling so much better having something of concern
other than Hannibal and he had not been able to face the hostility that he knew
Smith would batter him with. Remorse at
his weakness forced him into action even though he knew the risk.
“Face,” Murdock
said as he moved to lay a comforting hand on Peck’s shoulder. “You’ve got Stephens’ goons after you. Where is the first place they are gonna
look?”
“I’ll be
careful. How many times did I break you
out of the VA under the noses of the military?
I have to see him, only for a couple of minutes. I’ll meet you guys at the new place.”
Murdock and BA
exchanged glances, each noting the desperate intensity that haunted Peck’s
eyes. The big man shrugged his
shoulders. “OK muchacho,” Murdock said
finally. “But this is not your fault and
be careful. It you don’t show by
midnight I am coming to get you, all right?”
He leaned forward
and placed a chaste kiss on Peck’s lips.
Face smiled, the power in it seemed to have been re-charged and Murdock
felt its warmth. “Of course, HM. Don’t worry about me!”
******************************************************
Part Five
“Hannibal,” Face
whispered as he moved into the room. He
was dressed as a nursing auxiliary and had waited until the patients had been
put to bed and the lights dimmed before he made his move. Now he stood beside the bed and gently took
hold of the grey-haired man’s hand.
Hannibal did not
look well at all. His skin was deathly
pale and he was hooked up to a number of monitors and machines. His familiar features were covered by a mask
supplying him with oxygen. But as Face
whispered his name blue eyes opened and focused on Peck, not with the withering
glance of the critical Colonel that had been so often apparent in recent months
but instead with the warmth of the long missed and beloved friend. The change
caused Peck’s heart to flutter in his chest.
Smith indicated
weakly for his mask to be removed and when Peck lifted it away the old
soldier’s mouth was smiling. “Face,” he
breathed.
“I’m here,
Hannibal,” Peck said, squeezing his hand supportively. “How you doing?”
Smith sniffed and
Face had to lean in to catch his frail voice.
“Not good, kid. Lungs are shot –
too many cigars, it’s not going to be long.”
Peck shook his head
stubbornly. “No, what can I do for
you? Just tell me… anything!”
Smith’s smile
broadened and he winked. “I got a plan,”
he wheezed. “You’re doing it, kid!” He began to cough pitifully.
Seeing the
Colonel’s discomfort Peck reapplied the oxygen mask. He let out a long, desperate sigh. His heart breaking, it suddenly seemed very
important for him to let Hannibal know just what he felt for him. “I wish…” he began but never finished the
sentence for the doors to the room were banged open and three burly men entered,
waving semi-automatic pistols brashly.
“Templeton Peck?”
the first heavy spat. “We’ve been
waiting for you to show up!”
Peck moved between
the heavies and the defenceless man on the bed.
“What the hell are you doing?” he cried.
“You can’t come in like that, there’s an ill man in here!”
“Which is why you
are going to accompany us to a more suitable place for a discussion, Peck.”
“I’m not leaving,”
Peck retorted stubbornly.
“If the old guy in
the bed was dead you’d have to come with us,” said the heavy moving
threateningly towards the bed. “Do you
want me to make it so?”
“You dare touch him
and I’ll…” Hannibal suddenly grabbed
hold of Peck’s hand again. His eyes were
wide, pleading. Ignoring the impatient intake
of breath from his attacker, Peck bent to remove the mask again.
Hannibal
sighed. “Doesn’t matter,” he
gasped. “I got the jazz, I give it to
you, kid.” Peck felt a lump in his
throat. He felt like he was losing the
thing that he treasured above all else in this world. Smith held his stare uncompromisingly. “Go with ‘em, Face. Keep on doing it…”
Peck hesitated, his
eyes stinging with tears as he clutched the Colonel’s hand. His vision blurring, his mind was seeing
numerous images of the times he had shared with this man. Why did it feel like this was the end? Long trusted instincts were screaming at him
that this was goodbye. He gulped in a
shivering breath. If it was so, if the
unthinkable was happening, he would not give these strangers that assailed him
the satisfaction of seeing his pain, his weakness. He remembered a similar farewell in the
smoky, damp air of a prison camp in Vietnam, he had held himself together then;
he could do so now.
Behind him the goon
growled impatiently but Peck ignored it.
He bent and kissed Hannibal’s forehead.
“Thank you,” he whispered simply and then replaced the mask covering
over those cherished features.
Peck turned back to
the men. “Oh how touching,” the heavy
said snidely. “Come on, Peck, Mr Stephens wants to have a long, painful talk
with you.”
Peck did not look
back to the figure on the bed, if he did so he knew the sight would unman
him. A barrel of one of the semis was
thrust deep into his ribs and a voice hissed in his ear; “Just give me the
chance to blow you away!”
As if in a dream
Peck allowed himself to be manoeuvred through the Care Home and out to a car
pulled up at the entrance. He felt numb
and he hardly cared as they pushed him into the back seat. It was a relief when the foul smelling
handkerchief was thrust into his face and the overwhelming blackness rushed
through him. Peck embraced the escape
into oblivion as a generous gift since it meant he could no longer feel the
devastation of his loss.
.*********************************************************
“He’s not coming is
he?” Murdock’s voice showed the strain
he was feeling as he bit his fingers nervously.
He was staring anxiously at his cell phone on the table.
BA growled and
glanced at the clock; it was five minutes before midnight. “You want to tell me what’s going on between
you and Face?” he asked softly.
Murdock
sniffed. “Big guy, he told you what was
going on earlier,” he said evasively.
“Ain’t what I’m
talking about sucker and you know it!”
Murdock sighed and bit his lip stubbornly. “OK,” BA continued “Let me tell you what I
seen so far and then you can fill in the blanks. You and Amy both told him that Faceman hasn’t
been doing so good and I know about the court and his probation. I was expecting him to be different somehow,
bowed, tired but that ain’t what I seen.
Man; he is on the jazz. He looks
like Hannibal used to with that sparkle in his eye.” He fixed the pilot with his blackest
stare. “And you kissed him twice
tonight.”
“But …”
“Listen! Don’t tell
me they was nothing. I know what you
feel for him. You’ve cried on my
shoulder over him often enough but I thought it was long dead. I ain’t blind sucker – I saw how you looked
at him and how he looked at you.”
“Awwwh BA!” Murdock
cooed. “And people think you’re only good
at the fighting stuff. How wrong can
they be?”
“I am good at the
fighting stuff but I also known you two long enough to see what’s going on.”
“Nothing’s going
on, honestly! But I reckon given the chance it might be.” Murdock’s face broke into a wide, bashful
smile and he batted his eyelashes. “You
know I got a promise from Templeton Peck!”
“It’s been almost
thirty years, fool! Why now?”
Murdock
sighed. “It’s all about timing, big
guy. Just maybe the time is right now.”
BA shook his
head. “Don’t make no sense.”
“Love don’t need to
make sense, you know that BA. Faceyman
and me have been ignoring what’s right in front of us for years and it’s done
us no favours. When all this is over, I’m
sorta, kinda hoping that we might finally, maybe get it together.”
BA snorted. “It’ll be about time!” He looked back up at the clock. “Come on, we told him if he wasn’t here by
midnight we was going to find him. Let’s
do it!”
**********************************************************
Face came back to
consciousness into a world that was still black; a blindfold was tight about
his head. And from the stiff pain across
his shoulders and arms his hands were tied behind his back. He was seated and as he tried unsuccessfully
to move his legs he knew that his ankles were somehow secured to the chair he
sat on. He had lost count of the times
he had awoken to such an experience but each one had been a long time ago. His head was thumping and the drug they had
given him had made his mouth dry and parched. He felt old, too old to be subjected to this
sort of physical abuse and then the memory of events before his capture came to
mind. He could not restrain the moan of
desperation that escaped him.
“He’s awake, get Mr
Stephens!” A voice from over to his left said.
Damn! Peck cursed
himself – where was his self-control? In the past he would have been able to
feign sleep for long minutes while all of his senses ached to find out as much
information as they could about the enemy and his surroundings. If he wanted to survive this he had to pull
himself together and find his once legendary control. That thought was followed by another one even
more frightening – did he want to survive this?
Before he could
dwell further on that hands took hold of his roughly. A plastic cup was pressed to his lips and he
drank the cold water thankfully. When his throat felt slightly less raw he
cleared it. “What’s going on?” he forced
his voice to sound calm.
There was an evil
chuckle from close by. “You’re in the
shit!”
“I don’t
know….” The blow to his stomach was not
unexpected but it was painful. The rest
of Peck’s words were lost as the breath gushed out of him.
“Shut it!” The
voice counselled. “You’ll get plenty of
chance to beg when Mr Stephens arrives.”
There was silence
then. Peck used the time to investigate his bonds by minutely moving his hands
and feet – they were tight and secure with no chance of slipping them. Face then concentrated of his other senses to
glean as much information as he could; by using his hearing, he tried to
pinpoint the number of men in the room and their location. He thought he must be in quite a large room,
the echoes and the temperature made him think of concrete and he wondered if it
were some sort of cell or storage facility.
He was trying to
identify anything else revealing when he heard a quite obvious heavy door
opening with a squeak and the echoes on the hard floor that announced more feet
entering the room.
“Well, well, how
nice,” a voice said. “All trussed up and
ready for me, like a turkey at Thanksgiving.
Really Peck, I thought you would be more of a challenge.”
Face cocked his
head; there was something vaguely familiar about the voice; somewhere in the
depths of his past, he was sure he had heard it before. Hr drew in a ragged breath. “There’s been an awful mistake,” he
started. “If you could just untie me we
could discuss this like reasonable men and ….”
He stopped when the air was filled by mocking laughter.
“Is that the best
you can do?” The newly arrived voice was
scornful. “I am not a reasonable man,
you have been siphoning off my money and now I will punish you, what is there
to discuss?”
“Look, Mr
Stephens,” Peck tried to look as ingenuous as he could bearing in mind his
current position. “I know that it looks
like I’ve been screwing you but honestly I haven’t.” He let out his light giggle. “I want to pay it back. I don’t know how it got there in the first
place. I mean do I look like the sort of
guy who would mess with powerful man like you?
I mean really?”
There was a deep
chuckle. “Oh how I love to hear you
squirm, Peck. This really is too good to
be true!”
There it was again;
something annoyingly familiar about the voice.
“Do I know you?” Peck asked suspiciously.
“Oh yes!” Stephen’s voice dripped supreme
confidence. “All will be revealed, Peck,
but first I want to tell you a little story.”
“A story?” Face
repeated. “But I….” A second fist to his stomach stopped him once
more.
“Some thing’s never
change, you never did know when to keep your mouth shut! Now shut it and listen or I’ll have them gag
you,” Stephens said. There was the sound
of scraping and Face assumed another chair was being brought up. His hypothesis was confirmed when he heard if
squeak as a heavy weight – Stephens?- settled down on it.
“I’m a desperate
man, Peck,” he began obviously closer.
“See, a couple of months ago my doctor told me I have cancer – the big
C, started in my prostate but now I’m riddled with it, completely inoperable. I have six months at the most. When you get news like that it makes a man
put his life into perspective. Makes you
want to put things in their place, pay off any outstanding debts and leave
everything in the garden rosy to pass on to your kids. You know?”
Peck gulped. “I …” he began.
Stephens continued
regardless. “What the hell would you
know? Never had the guts to commit
yourself to anything have you? Too selfish for kids! But I wanted to make sure mine were looked
out for and I started thinking about my life and started sorting things
out.” He let out a long sigh. “Now it’s all concluded; everyone that ever
owed me. I can die in peace…. Except, of course, for you.”
“Me? I still don’t…”
“But you will Peck,
you will. I’ve been looking for you for
a while. Imagine how happy I was when
you came to me – the Lord moves in mysterious ways!”
Peck was struggling
to understand what he was being told, his mind whirling. “You set me up?” he asked.
Stephens
chuckled. “Gotta
hand it to you Peck, you are a master at manipulating the situation to your own
advantage but no, I didn’t set you up. I
have no doubt that you were screwing me, not knowing who I was and eager to con
me out of everything you could. It’s a
happy co-incidence that you finally bit off more than you can chew just at the
time I was searching you out. You see I
am talking about you making recompense for a long time ago; the last time you
cheated me and got away with it. That
time your friends saved your arrogant butt, happily they’re not around to save
you now.”
“Who are you?” Peck
asked impatiently.
“Let me give you
some clues – drugs, money, you, owe, me!” he spelled out.
Peck struggled
ineffectually in his bonds. “I don’t
know what the hell you’re talking about!” he hissed.
Stephens
laughed. “Maybe it’s time I really had
my fun. Take off his blindfold!” he
ordered.
There was movement
behind Peck as the blindfold was removed.
Bright, burning light fired on to his retinas and he blinked violently
trying to restore his vision. The
features of the man in front of him slowly condensed into a recognisable face
that instantly froze Peck’s bowels. The
face was older, with heavier jowls and eyes deeper inset behind relentless
wrinkles but the now grey hair was still severely short about the skull. Memories of the red dust and smoke of Vietnam
and a hot, stuffy night which had promised pain but had actually delivered
relief jumped into Peck’s mind. He knew
then that this time the ending would be different.
Beady eyes blazed
at him and Peck knew his voice was uncharacteristically revealing of his
emotion as he breathed, “Stepford!”
******************************************************
TBC
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