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By Junkfoodmonkey
"What
are you doing, Smith?" Not 'Colonel
Smith'
"I'm
getting my people out of there,
"I
have no problem with that, Colonel. But
did you really need to pull every single agent and Able off their jobs to go
down there? That’s nearly two hundred
people."
"I
didn't pull all of them, there's a guy, Rogers I think his name is, still on
his current assignment."
"He's
in
"Oh yeah. That was the reason."
"What
was that?"
"The
pilot says it’s the warm air from the ocean.
Causes turbulence."
"Turbulence…
you're in flight?"
"Little tired of being an armchair warrior, Senator."
He heard
"Smith,
it really isn't necessary for you to go down there." The senator paused, then
said. "You're not thinking of
leading the assault yourself are you?"
"Er,
sorry, Senator, I can't hear you, the connection is breaking up."
"You
are aren’t you? Dammit Smith, you’re too
valuable to…"
"Sorry,
"Cheer
up, Barb. Did I ever tell you about
something I like to call 'The Jazz'?"
"Do
you think the others made contact with the backup yet?" Murdock asked BA quietly. BA shrugged.
"We'll
know soon enough, if they attack."
BA said.
"That
won't be till nightfall though, at the earliest." Murdock said.
He looked over at Face, who still bent over Gonzales. "I'm not sure he has that much
time." BA followed Murdock's
gaze. He agreed.
It was
around
Murdock
went over to Face, handed him a cup of water.
Face drank it mechanically.
"How's
he doing?" Murdock asked.
"He's
still lucid sometimes." Face
said. "If he can just hang on until
nightfall…"
"Yeah." Murdock said. He stroked Gonzales hair gently. It was damp with sweat. Heat radiated from him. He's not going to make it, Murdock
thought. Even if he stays alive till
nightfall he'll be too far gone. He
looked at Face, at the determined expression.
"Face…" Face looked at him.
The fear in his eyes broke Murdock's heart. "He's strong. He'll make it." Murdock said, trying to make his voice as
convincing as possible. Face nodded,
turned back to the unconscious agent, and bathed his forehead with water
again. Murdock went back over to sit
beside BA. BA looked at him, raising an
eyebrow. Murdock just shook his head.
"They
found this at the evacuation site?"
He asked an Able.
"Yes
sir. And the frequency given shows they
are approaching the compound."
"Okay,
well we can't wait for them." He
turned to the group. "The choppers
are on the way. We go in at nightfall. Everybody be ready. Remember there's a wounded man, the priority
is to get him out fast. Assemble in two
hours. Dismiss."
They
scattered to continue their preparations.
Gonzales
opened his eyes, looking up at Face. His
eyes were unnaturally bright with fever.
"Hey, Jorge." Face said gently.
"Don't try to talk. Save your
strength." Face held a cup to
Gonzales' lips and he managed to sip a little water, before falling back,
exhausted.
"P…priest,"
Gonzales gasped out. Though his voice
was very weak, barely a whisper Murdock and BA heard it too, in the grim
silence. "Mama said… shouldn't die
without… priest." Face almost
groaned aloud.
"Jorge,
I'm sorry. There isn't one." He had
already asked, a few hours ago. Just in
case. They had laughed at him.
BA knelt
down on the other side of the stretcher.
He had taken off one of his gold necklaces, a crucifix. The gold caught the light and glinted as it
spun. Gonzales looked at it transfixed.
"Here
ya go, little brother.
You can hang on ta this." BA
took Gonzales' hands and wrapped them around the cross, set them down again, so
it was held against his chest. BA looked
at Face. "You wanna pray?" BA asked.
Face nodded unable to speak.
"Ah don’t know any of your Catholic prayers." BA said.
"But ah guess the Lord's Prayer is okay." He looked across the room at Murdock. A thin beam of light from the grill on the
door showed the Captain's face. And the tears on his cheeks.
He turned his head, hiding his face in shadow. BA looked back at Face, who reached out. BA took his hand and they each put a hand on
Gonzales' hands. And they prayed.
After that
Face sat with Gonzales' head on his knees, his arms around him, bending close
to hear Gonzales whispering feverishly, just barely audibly. Sometimes Face answered softly, mostly he
listened.
Across the
room Murdock and BA couldn’t hear, but they'd both comforted enough dying men
to be able to guess what he was saying.
As they watched Face straightened up.
He put a hand against Gonzales' neck, held it there for a while. Then he moved his hand over Gonzales
face. Closed his eyes. Murdock put his head down. BA put his arm around Murdock. He sat holding Murdock, watching Face holding
Gonzales' body.
After about
fifteen minutes BA and Murdock gently took the body from an unresisting Face
and laid it on the stretcher again. BA
took the crucifix from Gonzales' hands, put the chain around the dead man's
neck and tucked it inside his shirt. He
made a silent vow to kill any of their captors who tried to steal it. Finally they covered Gonzales' face with a
jacket. Face just sat, unresponsive.
He didn't
even move when a commotion outside sent BA and Murdock hurrying over to the
grill in the door to see what was happening.
They watched for a few minutes.
"Er,
Face." Murdock said. "You'd better see this." Face didn't move for a moment, then, as if
Murdock's words had only got through to him slowly he stood up, came over to
join them. Murdock and BA stood aside to
allow him to see outside.
In the yard
a patrol had apparently just returned.
There was a lot of excitement and yelling, because they had
prisoners. The moustachioed man in
charge hurried out and the patrol threw the two prisoners at his feet.
It was
Farrell and Collins.
"What
the hell do you think you're doing?"
Face yelled at the two agents, who had been thrown into the cell with
them. "Why didn't you wait for the
back up?"
"This
wasn't my idea, sir." Farrell
snapped back. Collins wasn't looking at
Face. He was staring down at the body on
the stretcher.
"Then
whose was it?" Face demanded.
"Wallace and Hassan. They wouldn't leave
you behind, they said. Sentimental
fucking grunts." He muttered. Murdock grabbed Face's arm to stop Face
killing Farrell on the spot. "I
wanted to wait for the backup, like you said, but they had a better idea,"
Farrell went on, sarcastically, not apparently noticing Face's murderous
rage. "We went to the pick up point
and left a message for the backup, telling them you were captured and we were
going to follow you back to the compound.
We gave them a homing frequency so they could track us
with our walkie-talkies, see where we were."
"Is
this how is was, Collins?" Face asked.
Collins looked at him, nodded. Of
course he'd back up Farrell, Face thought.
"And then you two idiots got yourself caught."
"Sorry, sir." Collins said. We didn't realise just how many men they had
here. Any idea what's going on?"
"Well
you’re the intelligence men, you tell me!"
Face snapped.
"We
think they're going to fight someone called
"
"So Lamba is presumably sending troops to take that plant
over." Murdock said.
"I
don’t care." Face snapped. "I don’t care what these bastards are
doing to each other, I hope they wipe each other
out. All I care about now is getting out
of here."
"We'll
have to wait till dark for that," Farrell said. He looked down at the stretcher. "Gonzales is dead?"
"Nice of you to finally notice."
Face snarled at him.
"Well
that makes it easier." Farrell
said. This time it took BA to stop Face
going for him. Collins dragged Farrell
away into a corner as he protested he hadn't meant that the way it sounded.
"Shut
up!" Murdock yelled, from by the
door, which he'd rushed over to as he heard a very familiar sound. "Shut up all of you, there's a chopper
approaching!"
They
crowded around the door, all trying to see out of the
grill, wondering if this was their rescue coming. It wasn't.
The small helicopter landed in the yard and three men got out. One of them they all recognised right
away. Lamba had arrived.
Moustache
Boy, as Murdock had dubbed him hurried over to greet his boss. He spoke urgently to Lamba and pointed
towards the building the prisoners were in.
Lamba gave him some orders and he came towards the building, several
guards with him.
"Move
back." Face told his people. When the guards opened the door Face stood in
the middle of the room, the others were spread out behind him. Keeping the prisoners restrained at gunpoint
the guards came in and dragged Face out into the yard, took him over to
Lamba. Lamba, looking ridiculous to Face,
was wearing combat fatigues. He thinks
he's a soldier. Face thought. Thinks he's about to lead
his army to a glorious victory.
"My
man tells me he thinks you have more people out there." Lamba said, "That we captured two more of
your people sneaking around after they brought the rest of you here." He took out a handgun. A SIG Face noted, almost unconsciously, as
the gun was pressed against his chest.
He showed no reaction. "Tell
me, how many more are out there?"
"What
makes you think there's more?" Face
said.
"How many?" Lamba
persisted. Face took on a look of
concentration, as if trying to work something out.
"Let's
see. Obviously excluding us, there's… I
think that would be… yes, three hundred and seventy two." Lamba hit him in the face with the gun,
knocking him to the ground.
"You
think this is a time for jokes, senor?"
He snarled, angrily. "Tell
me now how many more of your mercenaries there are. And does
"We
don't work for
"You
are a liar!" Lamba yelled
furiously. His face was flushed with
rage. He turned suddenly and gave some
orders to his men. They ran over to the
cell. Oh no, Face thought. He could stand up to Lamba threatening to
kill him. Right now he didn't much care
if he actually did it. But not one of
the others, please.
They
dragged out Collins. He struggled
against them, but was too heavily out-numbered.
Face could hear Farrell yelling from the cell now. Collins was dragged over to Lamba and pushed
to his knees. His eyes,
round and scared in his dark face, fixed on his commander. Face stared back at him.
Lamba
placed the muzzle of his gun against Collins' temple.
"Now, senor. You will tell me now how many
more people you have out there, or this man is dead." He cocked the gun. Collins gasped at the sound.
"Alright." Face said, "Alright. There's three more
people. But we don’t work for
"Thank
you, Senor." Lamba turned and gave
orders to his men. They started moving
out to look for the other three. Face
couldn't relax; the gun was still at Collins' head. Lamba turned back. He looked Face in the eyes.
And pulled the trigger.
The guards
threw the severely battered Face back into the cell. Beating him senseless had been the only way
to stop him from trying to attack Lamba.
Trying to kill Lamba. Pointing guns at him had no effect; he didn’t
even seem to see them. Only repeated
blows from fists, gun butts and boots had eventually managed to subdue him.
Murdock was
at Face's side in an instant, helping him to sit up, checking how badly he was
hurt.
"Face,"
Murdock said, gently, "Face can you hear me?" Slowly Face turned his head to look at
Murdock. Murdock flinched. He didn't know if it was down to shock or
concussion, but whatever looked back at him from Face's eyes was something he
hadn't seen since
Face seemed
to suddenly become aware of the noise that was coming from the corner of the
room. He turned to see BA pinning
Farrell to the ground. The younger man
was screaming, swearing, kicking and biting to try to get free.
"What?" Face asked, in a hoarse whisper. The one word question seemed to be all he
could manage.
"He
went nuts when… when he saw… they were yelling at him to shut up. We were scared they would kill him
too." Murdock shuddered at the
memory of the animalistic screams of the hysterical Farrell. He would never hear the name 'Dan' again
without hearing Farrell shrieking it.
"He tried to tear the door off with his bare hands. My god, couldn’t you hear him?"
Face shook
his head. All he'd heard was the shot,
over and over, an infinite echo that he would never stop hearing. And as the sound echoed around his head his
mind had become an arrowhead of hate aimed at Lamba's throat.
Face sat
listening to Farrell's cries and BA's attempts to quiet him while Murdock
cleaned the blood from his face and hands.
They were all going to die. He
knew that now. Rescue,
Lamba had
sent out several search parties. The
last of Face's squad didn’t stand a chance.
Murdock was
watching the night shift workers going into the factory as the day shift
streamed out. Pale faces, down-turned
eyes, too afraid to look at the men assembling to fight. Too exhausted to care. Murdock looked around the cell. BA sat with his back to the wall. He was watching Face, who hadn't moved for
some time now. Farrell was sitting in a
corner alone, hugging his knees to his chest.
He'd calmed down eventually and now, like Face, was virtually
catatonic. Murdock turned his attention
back to outside. The light was fading.
"Search parties coming back!"
Murdock hissed suddenly. Then BA
heard a catch in his voice.
"They're… they're carrying bodies." BA rose quickly and joined him by the door,
Face got to his feet too, much more slowly.
Farrell didn't react at all.
Murdock, BA and Face watched the search parties put the bodies on the
ground.
Lamba came
out of a tent and stared down in shock at the corpses of five of his men. Then he looked across at the prisoner's hut,
narrowed his eyes at the sound he could hear from inside.
It was
Face. He was laughing.
The
estimates were that Lamba had about one hundred men at the compound. They were most likely mercenaries and
bandits. No match for
Lamba
didn't have a chance.
"You
lied to me!" Lamba snarled at Face,
carefully avoiding standing too near to him.
Face was in the middle of the yard, surrounded by at least a dozen
gun-toting men.
"You
have more than three men out there."
They both looked at the bodies of Lamba's men. Two of them seemed to have broken necks, two
had been stabbed, and one had had his throat cut. Oh yes, Wallace, Hassan and Miller had seen
Collins being murdered, Face was certain of that now.
"Actually," Face said, entirely truthfully,
"there's only one man." Lamba
nodded at a guard who drove his rifle butt into Face's gut.
"One man, senor?
One man did all this?" Lamba
waved a hand at the corpses. "What
is he, some kind of… of Rambo?" He
laughed harshly. Face straightened up as
much as he could, holding his stomach.
"Yeah," Face said, "Rambo. That's right.
Rambo is out there." Lamba
gave some orders and the rest of the prisoners were dragged out to join
Face.
"I am tired of your jokes," Lamba told Face,
angrily. He produced one of the walkie-talkies
his men had taken from Farrell and Collins.
"You are going to call your men on this radio now and order them to
surrender, or I will kill all of you."
"You’re going to kill us all anyway," Face
said. "You've demonstrated
that."
"Ah, but it will not be so
quick as it was for your other man."
At another word from Lamba the guards grabbed Farrell, forced him
struggling to his knees. One of them
pulled a large hunting knife, held it to Farrell's throat. "It will not be quick. If he is cut in the right place it will take
him thirty minutes to die. Do you want
to watch that?"
"Give me the radio." Face said.
Lamba smiled triumphantly, he held out the walkie-talkie, thumbed the
switch to transmit,
"Speak." He
ordered Face.
"If you can hear me," Face said, hoping they could, "this is a
direct order." He looked Lamba in
the eyes. "Run. Run now.
Whatever you hear, keep running…" Lamba howled with rage and tossed
the walkie-talkie away.
"Kill them all, now!"
The guards raised their rifles, and then a shout went up
from near the gate, automatic fire stuttered.
Face turned to see a dark figure running, disappearing back into the
trees. The guards were in confusion by
the gates, some were running away, some were going to open the gates, while
others tried to stop them.
"Get down."
Face snapped to his team. They
ducked to the ground at the same moment the explosions went off. One very big one at the gates, several
smaller ones around the perimeter wire.
The man holding the knife to Farrell's throat let his attention be
distracted for a second by the explosions.
It was the last mistake he ever made.
A moment later he was dead on the ground and Farrell was kneeling over
him, holding the knife.
"Sounds like Hassan went back to retrieve the
explosives we dumped," Murdock said.
Face looked up at Lamba. He had drawn his handgun and was shouting
orders at his men, who were rushing about frantically. Then Face gasped as Lamba spun around, blood
spurting from his shoulder, toppled backwards.
"Nice shot, marine." Face said, to himself.
Something sailed over the fence, descending out of the
darkness to land between Face's group and Lamba.
"Grenade!"
BA yelled. He grabbed Farrell,
who had started to move towards Lamba, pulled him back. The grenade went off spewing thick white
smoke. Several more flew over the fence
into the yard. The compound descended
into total chaos. Continual and deadly
accurate rifle fire from outside added to the panic.
"Move!"
Face ordered. "Stay
low. Get to the gates." To where the gates used to
be. The explosion had demolished
them. Escape, that
was the aim. Wallace, Miller and Hassan
couldn't very well storm the compound, but they could create enough panic and
confusion to let the prisoners escape.
The four men headed towards the gate, coughing on the
smoke. They were almost there when out
of the smoke the big man with the moustache appeared. He pointed his machine gun at them and went
to squeeze the trigger. Then the noise
came, filling the world, he looked up and stared.
It began to rain commandos.
Black clad men slid down ropes.
Face looked up too, to see the dark shapes of helicopters hovering low
above them, dozens of men abseiling out of them.
Rescue.
"Farrell!"
Face heard BA yell, as the young agent took off like a rabbit, back into
the compound.
"He's going after Lamba!" Murdock yelled. Face ran after him, but Farrell was swallowed
up in the dark and smoke and the crowd. Because suddenly the yard was a mass of people. Rescuers and enemy were near
indistinguishable in the confusion. Face
heard the rattle of automatic fire, and then explosions from fragmentation
grenades. He saw fires start up all
around the compound.
He couldn't find Farrell.
A man rushed past Face, knocking into him and sending him spinning to
the ground. He was dazed for a moment,
looked up only when he heard someone calling out to him.
"Lieutenant Peck!
Lieutenant Peck!" Face
looked up to see a tall, lean figure in combats emerging from the smoke. Hassan.
Two Ables grabbed him as he moved towards Face, whether
over-enthusiastically trying to rescue or arrest him Face couldn't tell.
"Get off me, you idiots!" Hassan pulled away from them, ran to Face,
who was getting to his feet. Face wanted
to hug Hassan just for being alive, but then saw the almost panicked look on
his face.
"The factory!"
Hassan yelled, over the noise of the choppers and grenades and
gunfire. "The factory is on
fire!" Face looked past him, saw the flames crawling up the wall of the factory
building, spreading to the roof.
"Oh, Christ.
We have to get the people out.
Start organising…"
"No, sir, you don't understand!" Hassan grabbed his arm, pulling him
back. "The chemicals…"
He was cut off by an explosion that was quite simply the
loudest noise Face had ever heard.
Part 11
He was exhausted, they all were, after a night he never
wanted to see the like of again. After
the factory had exploded, scattering burning debris, pretty much everything in
the compound had caught fire. Hannibal's
people and even some of Lamba's had fought the fires as best they could, helped
the workers escape their living quarters, pulled injured from the wrecked
factory. The wooden buildings were
consumed quickly and collapsed. The rain
dampened the last of the embers until only blackened ruins remained.
Face looked back at
Wallace and Hassan were sitting on the ground, side by side,
both looking beaten down. Hassan's arm
was in a sling. The explosion had thrown
him and Face nearly twenty feet, slamming them onto the ground. When Face had turned to see Hassan lying
still beside him, eyes closed, he had lost what semblance of control he was
clinging on to. He'd knelt over the agent shaking him yelling, "You're not
dead! You're not dead!" When Hassan had moaned, opened his eyes and
started swearing about having a broken arm Face had been ready to break down
and sob with relief.
Miller was still on her feet and being harried as she did
translation duty. Murdock and BA were
helping the wounded that remained, getting them ready to transport. Farrell was… what was he doing? Face watched him, frowning. Farrell looked like a wild man, with his
smoke blackened face and hair, his clothes ripped, covered in soot and
blood. He was moving among the
prisoners. Didn't seem to find what he
was looking for there, went over to the wounded. Face noticed he was carrying a handgun. And suddenly he knew exactly what Farrell was
doing.
Farrell raised his gun and emptied it into Lamba.
The prisoners exploded into yells, scrambling away, fearing
they would be next. The workers started
to scream and cry.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Execution."
Farrell said, coldly.
"Don't you think enough people have died
already?"
Farrell looked slowly around at the terrified prisoners,
then back at
"Arrest him!"
Murdock looked around at the others in the cabin. Wallace was curled up, in what looked like an
uncomfortable position on a seat, but like most soldiers she was apparently
able to sleep anywhere she had the opportunity and seemed be resting
peacefully. On two seats facing Wallace
Hassan and Miller sat, Hassan's good arm around Miller's shoulder, hers around
his waist, she leaned against him, sleeping.
Hassan had his eyes closed but they opened when he sensed Murdock
looking at him. Murdock nodded slightly. Hassan nodded back
and closed his eyes again. Murdock
realised he hadn't yet thanked the agents for coming back to help them. Sentimental grunts indeed. Murdock looked over at the remaining agent,
watched Farrell for a while. Farrell was
awake but didn’t seem to notice Murdock's scrutiny. An Able stood nearby, watching Farrell.
Needing to do something besides wait Murdock poured a cup of
coffee and took it to Farrell.
"Charles," he said quietly, not wanting to disturb
the others. "You want some
coffee?" He gave Farrell a second
as the agent turned away and scrubbed his eyes dry with a shirtsleeve. He had to raise both hands to do so, as he
was in handcuffs.
"Thanks."
Farrell said, turning to him, taking the cup in both hands. Murdock sat down beside him.
"You okay?"
Murdock asked him.
"Fine."
Farrell said, shortly. He took a
sip of coffee, and then looked at Murdock.
"If you're here to tell me that what I did was wrong then I don’t
want to hear it. I don’t care what
anyone thinks."
"Okay."
Murdock said. But he didn’t
leave. Farrell looked at him
narrowly. "Do you want to talk
about him?" Murdock asked.
"Lamba?"
Farrell said, puzzled.
"Collins.
Dan." Murdock said. "You should talk about him."
"Thanks, Murdock, but that's not really my
thing." Farrell said.
"When did you meet him?" Murdock asked, ignoring that. Farrell sighed, but he answered.
"Our first week at Yale."
"And you became friends right away?"
"Yeah," Farrell got quite a far-away look in his
eyes, an expression Murdock hadn't seen on him before, it softened his
features. "Have you ever… well,
ever met someone and it's like you realised you'd been waiting your whole life
to meet this person?" He seemed to
shake out of the nostalgia suddenly.
"God, that sounds so gay."
He muttered.
"No."
Murdock said, softly. "I
know exactly what you mean."
Farrell turned to look at him, gave a slight smile. Then he looked away again.
"He was a better man than me, Murdock. He was smarter, he was… he was just better." He paused.
"And now he's gone." He
looked back at Murdock and his eyes had hardened again. "That’s why I had to do it. He'd have done it for me. And you can’t tell me that Lamba didn't
deserve to die. I don’t care if they put
me in jail. I'd do it again in a
second."
"I don't think you'll go to jail," Murdock
said. "I don't think you'll be able
to go on working for the organisation though.
At least not while
Farrell shook his head.
"I don’t care about that either.
We were partners. Without him
I've not got the heart for it."
"What will you do?"
"Oh my father will find something to put me in charge
of. Perhaps I'll even do well. He's always telling me that to do really well
in business a man needs the killer instinct, so I'm ahead of the game
there." His voice went hard and
grim at that last part and Murdock felt suddenly cold.
"Murdock."
BA called, softly to avoid disturbing those who were sleeping. Murdock looked over, saw BA beckon him. He nodded and turned back to Farrell briefly.
"Try to get some rest," he advised. "Things may be pretty bumpy for a while
when we get home." Then Murdock
went back to join BA and Face.
"He just got off the phone." BA said.
"Let's go."
Murdock said.
The three of them walked into
"
"Miss March."
Face said, his voice preternaturally calm. "Would you go and see the others have
everything they need. I think they could
use some blankets, it’s rather cold."
Barbara flashed him a look of gratitude for giving her something to do
and she hurried out. Face closed the
door after her. The door and the
dividing wall were thin, offered only a token amount of privacy, but it would
have to do. This wouldn’t wait.
"
"I want Farrell out of those cuffs." Face demanded.
"You can't think what he did was right."
"You didn't have to see…" Collins
head blown off. "What
they did to Collins." The blood. Face
felt bile rise in his throat at the memory.
"I'm sorry about that, Face."
"Never mind about me, "
Face snapped, "I'm talking about Farrell.
You will let him go."
"Alright."
"He knows."
Murdock said. "He doesn't
want to." He paused, looking for
the right words. "Neither do I." He looked
away from
"Ah'm resigning too." BA said, "This ain't what I signed up
for. Like the fool says, too much like
"Guys, I know it was horrible."
"No." Face
said simply. "It's over."
"I can't do this without you, guys."
"Then don't do it." Face said.
"Look, I take full responsibility for the way things
turned out…"
"No-one's saying it was your fault
"No, Murdock."
He hated to admit it but that's the way Stockwell would have
done it. He wouldn't have let emotions,
cloud his judgement, he'd have sent in exactly the right number of men to
rescue the prisoners. And he wouldn’t
have led them himself. Wouldn’t have put
on combat boots and gone strutting aroundlooking for
glory. Damn.
"We can still do good,"
he said quietly. "Yes, people died,
but people are dying every day from the poison those people were
manufacturing."
"That doesn't make it okay!" Murdock protested, shouting suddenly. "Dammit,
"That's not what I meant, Murdock,"
"I know exactly what you meant." Murdock answered, more quietly, but no less
angry. He turned and walked out of the
office, slamming the door behind him. It
bounced and didn't catch, stayed half open.
"Ah'm sorry,
"Face."
"Face."
He said again and Face finally looked up at him. The haunted look in his eyes made
"
"Cuffs?"
"Farrell's handcuffs.
Where are the keys?"
"Oh. The
Able…"
"Right."
Face walked out without another word.
Face watched the Able free Farrell
from the cuffs. Farrell started to thank
Face but Face turned away without acknowledging him and went to sit down. The only free seat was beside Wallace. She was awake now. Miller and Hassan were still in the same
positions as before, eyes closed. Face
knew the agents must have been able to hear some of what went on in the office,
knew that
After a horribly awkward and silent ten minutes Wallace
finally spoke to Face.
"I'm sorry you'll be leaving, sir." Face didn't answer. "It's been a privilege to work with
you."
Face turned his head to look at her. "Surely you think I'm a jerk?"
She looked rather shocked.
"No, sir," she protested.
"What have I told you about the 'sir's? Anyway, I'm not in command of you any more,
so it's not…appropriate, is it?" He
hated the sarcastic tone he was using.
She looked down.
"Will Colonel Smith also be leaving?"
"I don't know."
Face said. "Right now I
don’t much care."
"It would be a shame.
I like him better than General Stockwell. The way he works. He's a real soldier." Face looked at her,
the admiration in her voice and on her face was sincere. She looked away from his scrutiny. Face watched her for a while. Finally he spoke again.
"Becky, if you're smart you'll go back to the
Marines. You're a real soldier too and
this isn’t the outfit for a real soldier."
She looked back at him. "I
know you think that you have more opportunities here, but believe me, the main
opportunity this organisation gives you is to end up disgusted with
yourself. Go back to where you can serve
with honour, even if they don't let you do the fighting you know you’re capable
of. And when those two finish pretending
to be asleep…" he nodded at Hassan and Miller, "They should do the
same. You're better than this. All of you." Wallace looked at him for a while.
"Thanks for the advice.
I will be thinking about that."
Face moved to get up. "Sir…
Face, I did mean it, it has been a privilege to serve with you." She stood up too and offered him her
hand. "Maybe we can stay in
touch?"
"I'd like that."
He shook her hand, and then went to get himself some coffee. When he came back she had curled up in the
seat and was asleep again.
When the plane touched down
There was a knock at the office door.
"Is there anything you need, Colonel?"
"No. Go home and
get some rest, Barbara."
"Yes sir. I'll
see you tomorrow." She left.
Would she?
So maybe it was better that his team wouldn't be working for
him any more. He wouldn't worry about other
agents in the same way he worried about Face, Murdock and BA. Yes, it was for the best. It would be much easier to send people he
didn't know well…
Had Stockwell started out with good intentions, like
Hannibal himself? Had he just lost his
balance somewhere and fallen into the darkness?
But he'd believed he could resist, that he could stay true
to himself if he had his team with him, because they wouldn’t let him change
into… into that kind of person. They'd
kick his ass when he needed it. And he'd
been sitting here seriously contemplating doing this without them. Madari's words came back to him. "Don't do this without the rest of your
team… you know what you could become."
He'd forgotten for a moment just exactly what he could become. And forgetting had meant he'd very nearly
taken the first step to becoming it.
There was only one thing to do, to save himself
from turning into the type of man he most despised.
"Barbara!"
He called, and then remembered he had sent her home. He opened a drawer, found a pad and pen, sat
for a few minutes, writing. When he was
done he ripped the sheet off the pad, put it in an envelope and left it on the
desk. Then he got off the jet and walked
away.
The large
office was dark, table lamps beside chairs illuminated the people in the room,
except for the man at the desk, whose chair was turned away from the others.
Senator
Vaughan handed on
"A
pity."
Congressman Alverez said. "He had such potential."
"But an
inconvenient amount of conscience,"
"What
is this word?" Stark asked,
frowning at the letter. Alverez bent over, looked at the word she was pointing
to. He blushed
a little.
"Erm, I can't make it out.
His handwriting is terrible."
"He
seems to have been somewhat upset when he wrote it." Senator Webster said, dryly. He glanced at the desk, at the turned away
chair.
"If
only it hadn't been for the regrettable incident in
"The
word you want is 'disaster', Senator."
The voice from behind the desk was quiet. "It was not a 'regrettable
incident'."
"Yes of
course."
They sat in
silence for a few moments.
"So,"
"We
could de-centralise." Stark said
eventually. "Give executive
decisions to department heads, have them report
directly."
"Too
inefficient."
Alverez said.
"They'll spend more time fighting each other for resources than
doing any work." More
glum silence.
"I'm
wondering if this whole thing hasn't perhaps run its course." Webster said.
The other three looked at him.
"It is
getting harder every year to get the money," Stark admitted. "And avoid scrutiny."
"True." Alverez said,
looking thoughtful.
"No. Mr Webster is right," the man behind the
desk said. "Fold it up. Reassign
the personnel." Alvarez started
scribbling notes on a pad.
"If
there's any money left in the budgets after the expenses are
covered?" He asked.
"I
think some appropriate compensation for Smith and his men..." Webster
said. Stark and Alvarez nodded their
approval, Alvarez writing a note.
The man behind
the desk turned his chair around and stood up.
The other four stood too.
"Congresswoman,
gentlemen, thank you for your work. Please send me your final reports as soon as
possible." He shook hands with each
of them and they took their leave.
"Jack," he said as Webster was making his way to the door, the
last one to leave. "This has to
stay out of the newspapers. You'll see
to that."
"Of
course, sir."
The senator said.
"Maybe some good came out of it all
somewhere." Murdock said. He traced a finger down the side of his beer
glass.
"Maybe." BA said, grudgingly.
"I mean we took out a few smugglers and pushers
in that first month. That’s a few less
bloodsuckers pushing poison on kids."
He sighed and took a swig of beer.
Across the table from him BA drank some of his milk.
The two of them were sitting in a roadside bar outside
The door opened and Face walked in. He was wearing a very good suit and carrying
a briefcase. He joined Murdock and BA at
their table and when the waitress came up he ordered a beer.
"Why are we out here?" Face asked his friends.
Murdock shrugged.
"The beer's good."
"Ah like the ambience." BA said.
Face looked around. There were
only a small number of people in there, most drinking themselves into a state
of total oblivion. Two leather-clad men
with Hell's Angels symbols on their jackets were kicking and swearing at a
Space Invaders game. The
waitress, who had fresh stitches in her eyebrow, brought Face his beer and left
again.
"Yeah, it's a real classy place." Face said.
He took a drink. The beer was
good though.
"How's work?" Murdock asked.
"Fine." Face said, shortly. Murdock watched him steadily. It had been a week now since they had all
resigned from the organisation. Face had
gone straight back to his agency and thrown himself into his work. Murdock and BA had both given themselves a
few days off to process what they had been through. None of them had seen
"Anybody heard anything?" Murdock asked. The other two shook their heads.
"I called Maggie." Murdock said.
"And Frankie. Even Faris, 'case
"He didn't come to the funerals." Face said, quietly. They sat in silence for a few minutes,
thinking about the funerals of Gonzales and Collins. Face remembered shaking the hands of their
families, thought about the contrast between Gonzales' father in his police
officer's uniform and Collins' father in his dark, expensive suit. And remembered the same
pride and grief in both men's eyes.
The waitress brought them a fresh round of drinks,
told them they were from the Hell's Angels by the video game. They waved their thanks to the men. Then they raised their glasses and touched
them together. They didn't have to speak, they all
knew who they were drinking to.
At five minutes to
"You gonna stand there
all night?" BA said.
"Fellas," he
said. Murdock and BA nodded back at him,
but it was Face he was watching. Face
looked at him, then looked away, suddenly absorbed in
the TV that was playing silently above the bar.
"Big guy, you wanna
play Pool? Looks like they repaired the
table," Murdock said to BA.
BA was terrible at Pool and Murdock was more
interested in trick shots than in winning a game, but BA, looking for a moment
at Face and
"Now, BA," Murdock said, as they stood
up. "You know that's against the
rules." They went off still
bickering good-naturedly.
"You back at work?"
"Yes," he answered after a moment.
"You should take some time off, to… well, to
think about it all."
"I can't live on fresh air." Face said.
"And that damn Mercedes just drinks gas."
"I told you to buy American."
"Where did you go?" Face asked after a long silence.
"You care?"
"Just curious. You were out of touch. That’s breaking your own rule."
"Just went for a drive."
"For a week?"
"Yeah." Face said.
They were quiet again for a while, listening to BA and Murdock.
"Three ball in the side pocket and the cue ball
into that big guy's beer." Murdock
announced, as he was about to take a shot.
"If you do ah ain't stopping him from killin' ya." BA warned.
"You checked your bank account lately?" Face asked.
"No,"
"If you want to see how much blood money they've
given you, yes you should."
"Blood money?"
"Or hush money.
Whatever.
Some kind of pay-off. I went to the ATM and found there was twenty
thousand dollars in my checking account."
"That should pay for quite a lot of gas for the Merc."
"You don’t think I kept it?" Face said, angrily. "Gave it to BA for the
centre."
"Oh, that's good.
Yeah, I'll do the same. BA and
Murdock got money too?"
"Yeah. We all donated it to the youth centre. BA doesn't much like the source, but the
place needs the cash."
"Yeah." They fell silent again.
"So anything come up for
me? Acting wise?"
"Actually yes, could
be. A TV pilot, the show's about a cop
from LA who takes over as sheriff in a small town after the old sheriff
retires."
"And I'd be…?"
"Sorry,
"Sounds
good."
Face nodded at that. "You could steal the show." He said, with a sly smile. Then he sobered a little. "It's a pilot. If you got the part and it went to a series
you'd have to be available to sign on long term." He looked at
"Yeah,"
As they sat down Murdock
smiled and said, "Welcome back,
~~ End ~~
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