Part 9:
"I'm Charles Winthrope, from the Governmental
Record Authenticity Agency, a sub-division of the Census Bureau,"
Face said as he peered over his non-prescription glasses and flashed
a badge at the receptionist. "This is FBI agent, Roland "Killer"
Rogers," Face pointed to Murdock, who, on cue, snarled quietly,
"we have followed some leads that indicate that certain,
recent, documents that have been kept in this, ummm, establishment
have been falsified while the originals were replaced and used
in illegal transactions. We will have to look at a number of them
and verify that this is or isn't true. So kindly show us where
the documents for the last two years are kept," Face continued
as Murdock glared relentlessly at the increasingly unaffected
receptionist. The older lady turned and motioned them to follow
her. After several combinations of right and left turns the woman
stopped at a set of three filing cabinets.
"Here you are. I must return to the front, I
can't leave my post except for a few moments. I suppose you know
what you are looking for," she finished in a sardonic tone
and turned to leave then turned back. "Be sure not to make
a mess," she said coolly, and left them to their search.
"Hmmm," Face paused for brief moment, considering
the woman's reaction.
"Faceman," Murdock caught Face's attention,
"I'll take the birth certificates, you take the police reports."
They found their respective filing cabinets and set to work.
* * *
Hannibal and BA stepped from the van. Hannibal carried
Jordan into the only store in Johnstonmanville, Arkansas, while
BA prepared for any trouble. They had decided to go to Johnstonmanville
so that no one would recognize them or Jordan as they began to
snoop around and look for clues in Millwood.
As they entered the old-fashioned store, Hannibal
approached the desk clerk, who seemed to him to be the type that
would know about babies. "Excuse me ma'am. I'm Leroy Smithers,
this here's," Hannibal said with an extreme Texas drawl and
pointed at BA, "my friend, Charley. I's wonderin' if you
cain't tell me a few things about babies." The clerk raised
her eyebrow a bit at this. Before she could ask too many questions,
Hannibal explained, "My daughter's in the hospital in Little
Rock and her husband's out to sea - in the Navy you know. It took
`er so sudden, I hafta take care of my grand-baby, li'le Bessy-Lou,
but I don't know what to do." For added effect he looked
at her with this helpless look and added, "Could you spare
just a couple hints for an ol' man who don't know what he's doin'?"
The expression on the middle-aged woman's face had
changed from skeptical to one of genuine sympathy. `I should get
an Oscar for this one,' Hannibal thought to himself. Before they
left to return to Millwood both BA and Hannibal had learned how
to quickly change a diaper, prepare formula, burp Jordan, and
how often and how long she needed to sleep. They also, from the
context of the conversation, learned that Jordan was most likely
four to twelve months old. They bought enough diapers and formula
to last a couple of weeks. As they left the store, the woman stood
at the door and waved good-bye. Hannibal grinned at the reflection
in the mirror. "I love it when a plan comes together."
"EEEEmmp," was Jordan's high-pitched, agreeable response
to Hannibal's statement. He continued to rock her back and forth
in his arms. Jordan drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
Part 10:
"Hey, Murdock," Face haled his friend quietly
(the place felt like a library), "look. This report talks
about a man named `Wharton' locked up for the attempted kidnapping
of a baby GIRL - this was two months ago. There's no name for
the baby listed." Peck's face was a complex composition of
discovery and puzzlement bordering on frustration.
"Anyway, they ran a make on this guy - half
a dozen governments around the world want this guy for everything
from drug and gun running to espionage - he was even implicated,"
Face paused, his voice dropping in volume out of disgust as he
finished his summary of the report, "in slave trading and
genocide. There aren't any more reports that have any mention
of him. No extradition papers, nothing. In fact, there aren't
any reports after that arrest. It is almost as if all police action
stopped right after that report - we know that that isn't true:
we saw that deputy carry out that kid." Face paced right
in front of the filing cabinets as he thought out loud. "Did
you find anything?" He stopped, looking hopefully at his
pal who did not return the look of discovery that Face had hoped
for.
Murdock reported, "I didn't find a birth record
for any baby girls in the last two years. This is a small town,
but it is big enough to have more babies born than that - that's
according to national statistics, of course. But still, little
towns often have a higher birth rate than big metropolises,"
Murdock explained.
"Murdock, look and see if there were any boys
born in the last two years with any part of the name - being JORDAN
-," Face finished slowly and became annoyed with Murdock
as he continued to "howl" with laughter. "What
IS SO funny?" Face inquired in a sardonic tone.
"You, Faceman." Murdock doubled over with
another bought of extreme laughter. Face pointed to himself an
raised his eyebrows,
"Me?" he asked incredulously.
"Yeah, you - I thought you're supposed to be,"
he laughed out loud again - it echoed in the seemingly lifeless
building (that description, in Face's opinion, applied to the
receptionist as well).
"What?!? What'd I do?!?" Face exclaimed,
frustrated.
"You-You supposed to be, HA-HA-HA-HAA,"
Murdock took a breath and finished, "the EXPERT on BOYS &
GIRLS." Murdock couldn't stand any more - he laughed so hard
he had to hold his sides and had to sit in a near-by chair where
he continued to laugh.
Face rolled his eyes. "Murdock!" he called
trying to snap his buddy's attention back to the task at hand.
"Murdock, you know what I mean. Will you get up from there
and be helpful, huh?" the last syllable he punctuated with
a small jerk of his head in the direction of the filing cabinets.
He waited a moment for Murdock to regain control. "Come on,"
he grabbed Murdock's right hand and pulled out of the seat and
toward the filing cabinets.
"Hey," Murdock, who had abruptly stopped
laughing, had another idea. "We didn't look in files concerning
property ownership transfer. If Jordan's parents moved here after
she was born there might not be a delivery record," he grinned
mischievously, "I guess storks don't give receipts, huh?"
Face only gave Murdock an "I'll humor you" smile and
set back to work looking for any clue to Jordan's alleged predicament.
A few moments were spent in silence. " 'fraid we're grasping
at straws, Faceman," Murdock soon remarked to his friend,
ending the, to him, roaring silence. He glanced around.
"Maybe, but anything that. . ." Face started
and was then interrupted.
"Face, look at this," Murdock wrenched
an official document from under the filing cabinet next to the
one he was looking through.
"What is it?" Face asked expectantly.
"Well," Murdock quickly scanned it. "It
is a Millwood fire department report of a woman, a farmer's wife,
rushed to the local hospital after delivering her baby on the
fire truck, en route. The baby was a girl. Face," looked
up at his friend, "this was six months ago. But there isn't
a girl baby's birth on record for the past two years. I'm startin'
to smell some REALLY old sushi here. I mean . . ." Murdock
was interrupted as the receptionist rounded the corner, "Is
everything all right, gentlemen." Murdock quickly stowed
the paper behind his back and tried to look cruel. "I thought
that I heard something." The woman raised an eyebrow. The
two men shared a brief glance and then Face responded, "Oh,
yeah. Everything's fine. I was, ummm, just, ummm, coughing - the
dry southern air, you know. We still have work to do so if you
wouldn't mind?" He smiled his winning smile, gestured in
the direction she had come, and waited for her response.
"Very well," she replied and left.
"Something just doesn't add up here," Face
commented after he was sure the woman was out of ear-shot.
"Tell me about it, Faceman. Look at the signature
of the woman taken to the hospital. Look at all familiar?"
Murdock continued, seriousness pervading his whole demeanor. Face
nodded a negative. "Remember the note?" Murdock finished.
Part 11:
"So what's the verdict, Face?" Hannibal
questioned the lieutenant impatiently.
"It certainly looks like it was written by the
same person. You see this different little twist on the `r's and
the shape of some of the other letters? We can't be positive,
of course, but it is something to go on," Face explained
after comparing the signature from the pilfered document and the
note that they had received with Jordan. The form carried the
name "Nancy Charleston." They had all returned from
their respective assignments and were convened in their motel
room considering all the newly acquired information, how it all
fit together to form the truth, and the possible ramifications.
"Did you and Murdock look in the records for
any mention of this `Nancy Charleston'"? Hannibal continued
to try to put this mess together.
"Yeah, NOTHING, NADA, ZIP, ZILCH, the voids
between the stars," Murdock commented from where he was watching
Jordan try to crawl across the bed.
BA scowled at Murdock's more than explicit description
of what they had not been able to find.
"Murdock's right," Face interjected. "There
had to have been hundreds of files missing. It was as if this
town slowly ceased to keep records over the last two years. I
think something's goin' on and somebody doesn't want anyone to
know."
"Somebody knows. We just have to find out who?"
Hannibal said. "There are three possibilities I see here:
one - someone or someones in high office are up to something and
hiding it from the town's people; two - someone has frightened
everyone into silence - or almost everyone," amending his
previous statement considering Jordan (Charleston?)'s situation,
" and three-the whole town is up to something." Hannibal
finished and began to chomp on his new but unlit cigar.
"What's the plan, Hannibal?" BA asked,
ready for some action.
"I think it's time we sting `the monster.'"
Hannibal grinned with the cigar between his teeth as he put on
his black gloves.
"Hannibal, we don't even know who or where `the
monster' is - much less if there IS a monster," Face commented
on Hannibal's plan.
"That's OK. We just have to do a little hunting.
Anybody got any buckshot?" Hannibal continued to grin like
a Cheshire cat.
"He's on the Jazz, man," BA grumbled as
he shook his head.
"Great," Face said, sarcastically.
"Jordan, can you say JAZZ?" Murdock said.
Part 12:
That evening, after stopping the search for "the
monster" because almost everyone in the town had gone home
and gone to bed, the team decided to take a of couple hours for
Hannibal and BA to teach Face and Murdock what they had learned
that afternoon. After two tries apiece, Face and Murdock could
easily put a diaper on Jordan. The bottle was not a problem. Soon
Hannibal and BA went out on patrol for one last check before they
hit the sack. Face had finished feeding Jordan who had soon fallen
asleep on his chest as he leaned back in the burgundy rocker in
the room. He had soon gone to sleep himself so Murdock quietly
left the room to talk with Hannibal.
Outside, Hannibal stood about ten feet from the door
to the room as he gazed at the night sky and puffed on his cigar.
B.A., evidently, was still on his rounds. As Murdock sidled up
to the colonel he said, his voice full of wonder, "Beautiful
night, isn't it?"
"Yeah," replied Smith. They both continued
to watch the sky for a few minutes occasionally looking around
for trouble. Then Hannibal looked at Murdock questioningly, "Something
you needed, Captain?"
"No-no. I love the stars." Murdock paused.
"Actually, I wanted to talk about Face. You see how he is
with Jordan? I've never seen him like that. He's not the Faceman
we know," as Murdock gestured wildly he grinned, but his
features held a dark puzzlement.
Hannibal considered this for a moment. He continued
to puff on his cigar pondering how to respond to this statement.
"You know, Captain, I don't think that he is any different."
Murdock looked at his commander with puzzlement. Hannibal grinned
mischievously and added, "He's smitten by a young, beautiful
woman," he finished with a wide grin and a brief raise of
his eyebrows. "Don't worry, he's fine. I think it's good
for him." Hannibal put his arm briefly around Murdock's shoulders
as if to convince and comfort him that his friend wasn't going
to forget him. It seemed to Hannibal that Murdock was a slight
bit envious of his friend's attention to Jordan.
"All clear on the perimeter, Hannibal,"
BA announced as he returned from his investigation of the grounds.
"Good. Let's get some rest. Tomorrow, we'll
shake this town until "the monster" falls out of a pocket
somewhere," Hannibal quickly took one last puff of his cigar
and put it out. They went inside the motel room.
Part 13:
Except for a loud request from Jordan for her one
o'clock feeding, the night had been uneventful. The team was up
before dawn, as usual. A cool spring breeze chilled the air.
It wasn't too long before the town was up as well;
the people scurried around and made preparations for the day.
"Definitely a small town," Hannibal thought. Although
everything seemed, to all outward appearances, to be normal, Hannibal
knew better. He couldn't put his finger on anything specific,
but his gut told him that something was not right. He had gone
outside to have another cigar - since he didn't want to smoke
around the baby. He was working on a plan.
The team joined him outside, one by one, as the sun
rose. B.A. was the first, but soon left Hannibal alone again to
do another look around the suspiciously quiet motel. Soon Murdock
appeared at Hannibal's left side and Face, on Murdock's left,
was holding Jordan in her basket. He had fed, changed, and burped
her while Murdock packed the basket with a couple of extra diapers,
a spare bottle, and a towel for after they fed her. At the moment,
she was playing with the pacifier and wiggling under the half
cover of her blanket. She was wearing the pink little jumpsuit
that she had been wearing when they found her, but they had washed
it and let it dry over night.
"Captain. Lieutenant," Hannibal greeted
his subordinates. Each in turn responded,
"Colonel." Hannibal knew his men - with
B.A., a silent nod was a sufficient and natural greeting. With
Face, a "Good Morning" or an ordinary address by either
his name or rank was the enough. Then there was Murdock, Hannibal
would just have to read his mood. This morning Murdock seemed
more "normal" than usual - in fact, he had been unusually
lucid since they found Jordan. Hannibal took note of it: it was
a factor in THE PLAN.
"B.A. out on patrol?" Face asked, looking
around.
"Yeah. I think he's restless. It is so obvious
that something's going on here even Decker could have seen it,"
Hannibal answered, gesturing with his cigar. Upon the end of the
statement, he thrust the now half gone cigar back into his mouth.
"What's the plan, Colonel?" Murdock asked
with his hands in his pockets.
Hannibal smiled mischievously, "You still have
that pocket tape recorder, Lieutenant?"
"Yeah, it's in the van," Face responded,
confused. "Why?" Both Face and Murdock looked expectantly
at the colonel.
"Get it and a duffel bag. Murdock, bring junior
there back into the room - we have to offer some cheese to the
rat to bring him into the trap," Smith continued. He put
out his cigar as Face handed Jordan to Murdock who, along with
the colonel, soon disappeared into the motel room with Jordan.
After retrieving the requested items from the van, Face soon followed
them inside. After a few minutes B.A. returned from watch and
went inside as well.
"What now, Hannibal?" he asked as he came
in.
"B.A., you have that miniature welder of yours?"
Hannibal asked.
"Course, man," B.A. sounded offended.
"We need," Hannibal paused for a brief
moment in thought, "you know - the usual. After the three
of you return from getting the stuff, Face check us out of the
motel and tip them an extra $25 dollars," Hannibal quickly
dolled out the orders.
"Why the tip, hmmm?" Face asked incredulously,
eyebrows raised.
"For the sheets," Hannibal answered with
mischief glinting in his eyes and mystery in his voice. "Here's
the plan . . ." and he explained all.
There seemed to be a subconscious thrumming in the
air like a constant chord played by a violin. They all knew the
sensation well; they had all felt it many times. It was exciting;
it was compelling; it was the JAZZ.
Part 14:
Hannibal lit his cigar and strolled into the diner
followed by a very angry-looking BA and an otherwise occupied
Face. Face reached into the basket he was carrying and adjusted
the sheet around the bundle and it cooed in response. The van
was parked out front. Hannibal stepped up to the counter and order
pancakes and hot coffee for all three. It seemed to them that
the whole town was there for breakfast. Perfect. Everything was
going according to plan, so far.
Face sat on the closest stool and put the basket
on the stool next to him. B.A. stood protectively on the far side
of the basket from Face, while Hannibal stood on the other side
of the Lieutenant. Both Hannibal and B.A. looked around at the
crowd for any sudden moves; Face, seemingly, paying all attention
to the bundle that he now rocked gently in his arms. The café
was crowded, but everything seemed, to the three, unusually quiet.
"We don't look like a bunch of guys that should
have baby - we're bound to be noticed by the right people. Let's
take our time. OK, guys?" Hannibal whispered to the other
two. They each nodded in agreement. Face turned so that all could
see what he was holding. The sound of a baby crying could be heard
throughout the almost silent diner.
"It's OK, Little One. Shhh, it's OK," Face's
tone soothed as he rocked and bounced the bundle gently. Hannibal
and B.A. watched the crowded restaurant for any threats, occasionally
glancing behind the counter. "Here," Face said soothingly
as he put the bottle of formula into the wrapped sheets. His hand
was close to the top and his fingers disappeared from view as
well. The crying quickly subsided. Soon the meals arrived and
Face held the baby in one arm and ate with the other occasionally
reaching into the sheet to check on the contents. The whole meal
was uneventful, but Hannibal knew that the monster had been bated.
They stood to leave.
* * *
"No, don't cry, Jodie," H.M. Murdock soothed.
"It's just you an me now; we gotta find us a spot to watch
and be quiet, OK? Come on, you don't have to cry," he continued
to say as he began to settle in the tree where he sit and watch
the diner without being seen; he was protected by the new foliage.
Jordan continued to cry and fuss. "I know what it is - you
sense the tension of what's happening, right? Now, you know everything's
gonna be OK, cause you're part of the A-Team. Right, Jodie?"
Murdock picked her up and discovered that sometime in the last
twenty minutes she had become very wet. "Great," Murdock
groaned, "you should have gone before we left the house.
You know, this isn't really a good time for something like this."
Murdock held and rocked her, frequently glancing up to be sure
everything was going according to plan at the diner. She had stopped
crying and was more interested in his antics. "How `bout
I sing, huh? `Rock a bye, baby, in the tree top, When the wind
blows the cradle will rock," almost as if on cue the breeze
picked up and the tree limbs swayed, slightly. "Weeeee,"
Murdock spoke quietly to Jordan, "when the wind blows the
cradle will rock, " Murdock continued to sing quietly, "when
the bough breaks, the cradle will fall, down will come. . . I'm
thinkin' that I better come up with something better to sing considering
our current position. Hmmm? Any requests from the audience? Well,
let's see? `Twinkle, twinkle'. . . uh oh, " Murdock stopped
singing and quickly prepared for the climb down.
Part 15:
"I think that you boys better come along with
me," the large man with the shot gun said as he stood up
from one of the booths in the back and continued to speak in an
almost remorseful tone, "The Boss has been looking for that
baby for almost forty-eight hours now. Now, I don't want any trouble
so let's go on out to your van, OK?"
"No, it's not OK, Pal," Hannibal responded
in a less than patient manner, "Tell me, who IS your boss?
"
"Wouldn't happen to be a man named `Wharton'
would it?" Face finished for the colonel.
The man sighed, obviously distressed, and said in
again a regretful but more forcible tone this time, "Look,
just get movin' before we have to do somethin' that isn't so hospitable."
The man indicated toward the door with his shot gun.
"Why would we want to do what you say? And what
makes you think that we have any intention of doing so?"
Hannibal smiled challengingly and shoved his cigar back into his
mouth and put his hand on his hip. Face rocked the again crying
bundle and tried to shush it.
"Look, Mister, I ain't got no choice - just
git movin' huh?" the man responded.
"We can't - it's too easy - we ALWAYS do things
the hard way. It's definitely a flaw in our communal character.
Now, you go tell you're boss that if he's interested in the baby
maybe we can cut a deal. Tell him to meet us at the abandoned
barn on farm road 8723, got it?" Hannibal finished with his
eyebrows up.
"No - we have to go now. All right boys, this
isn't gonna as easy as we thought," the man raised his still
distressed voice. At that point seven other large men stood up
all over the room, all armed.
"Great, just great, Hannibal. What now?"
Face looked at his commander.
"Well, I think that it was Ulysses S. Grant
who said that when you're surrounded and out numbered, the best
strategy is to surrender," Hannibal explained. He could hear
B.A. growling on the other side of Face. "Easy, Sergeant,
" he soothed.
"Give Eli there, the baby," the man ordered
Face.
"I don't think that that would be such a good
idea - she really doesn't know him and I've found that she really
doesn't respond well to people who haven't spent time feeding
her. She'll just cry and cry and cry and then there's the diapers,
burping . . ." Face started.
"Fine, you keep her. Just keep her quiet - the
boss don't like noise," the man interrupted. Face pulled
the bundle closer to his chest and he readjusted the sheet and
it began to coo softly. "Let's go."
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