CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Murdock was concentrating on the tracking device. They'd been driving forever, through every little nook and cranny in Langley. He grimaced; apparently Carla had learned her lesson. He had to keep telling BA which new direction she was taking, and the big man was getting just a might irritated at the constant switchbacks. Hannibal seemed to be taking it in stride. He sat smoking his cigar, eyes closed, a smile on his face. He knew they wouldn't lose her. He knew they would find Stockwell.

Hopefully he 'knew' they would find Face, too.

Carla was starting to take fewer and fewer turns now. Instead of seemingly wandering aimlessly, she was heading in the same general direction. Getting more into the suburbs now. It wasn't long after that all pretense of evasion stopped, and Carla was on an obviously direct route to wherever her ultimate destination was.

BA was relieved when Murdock finally slowed down with the directions. He'd had an uneasy feeling as they were driving that they weren't alone in their pursuit of Carla, but hadn't been able to concentrate on anything except the maneuvers she was putting them through. Now he started watching behind him. A couple times he thought he glimpsed a vehicle, but it never got close enough to see if it was the same one or not. He would've liked to slow down and see what happened, but they could lose the signal that way.

He glanced at Hannibal. He seemed totally unconcerned about anything that was happening at the moment. BA knew he was hatching up a variety of plans to deal with Stockwell. And Face. BA started wondering where he was right now. Hannibal figured he was pretty close.

"She's making a right turn up here, BA. Close."

Within a few minutes, they came upon an unobtrusive tractor path, leading past a thin grove of trees and off into a meadow. Carla's signal had stopped. BA parked the van beside the road and waited.

"Well, Hannibal?" Murdock had his hand on the door handle.

"What else?" he grinned. "The front door, of course."

He'd had his work cut out for him this morning. Obviously Carla was leading the Team on a merry chase and he was having a hard time keeping them in sight without making his own presence known. He was relieved when they started moving in a less erratic manner. As the suburbs flowed past, he was able to relax and move farther back.

Gradually they moved into an area with fewer and fewer houses. He came over a small hill and his heart caught. The van was parked on the side of the road, less than 100 yards in front of him. Quickly throwing his cap and sunglasses on, he zipped past them and kept going. He drove for another mile before pulling far into a farm lane. He waited for ten minutes. No van. Locking the car, he began backtracking on foot.

He trotted through the trees and brush, paralleling the road. Eventually he came back within sight of the van. He couldn't tell from this distance whether anyone was still inside or if they had followed Carla on foot. He felt incredibly exposed out here. Not only did he need to keep an eye out for the team, he knew Stockwell's bunch had to be somewhere close. He started moving closer, knowing he was vulnerable in broad daylight. It was not to his liking, but he would manage.

He hadn't gone much further when he came to a wire strand fence. It wasn't very high, maybe six feet. Just the right height to tempt one to do a quick climb over it. He knew immediately he'd found Stockwell's little hiding place, as the faint hum of live current came to his ears. He stayed where he was, quickly scanning the posts and trees for cameras. He saw two, swiveling slowly from tall trees some 50 feet apart. He crouched down, fairly certain he was still outside their view. He was about to start moving back when he heard them.

The three men were inside the fence. He wasn't sure if they had been lucky, or if Stockwell were already watching their every move. He had his answer when three jeeps roared up, a dozen Ables pointing weapons at the trio. The team simultaneously raised their hands high above their heads. He heard The Colonel clearly.

"I love it when a plan comes together!"

"Take us to your leader!" The Pilot laughed.

The Ables lowered their weapons, the team their hands. He watched coldly as the team climbed quickly into the jeeps and were driven away. He had known they would not forgive him for the murders. He had known they would try to stop him in this mission. He had not expected that they would actually join forces with Stockwell. Join forces with the man who would kill him if he had the chance. He understood now that the lines had been drawn.

They were led into a large study. Three desks were piled with files and telephones, and several file cabinets were scattered along the walls. At the fourth desk sat Carla. She was not happy. Again.

"Hi, Carla! Bet you thought we'd forgotten about you."

She hated Hannibal Smith.

"The general's waiting for you. Through there," she indicated a wide door to her left.

Stockwell was glaring at them as they entered. He was not sure how they had found him yet again, suspecting Carla but acknowledging they probably had planted something somewhere. Now the question was what to do with them. He could work with them to find Peck. It would probably take much less time. However, the problem was his plan for the lieutenant versus theirs. He knew they would try to save the man; he wanted him eliminated. Of course, he could get rid of all of them. The glare turned to an ugly smile at that thought.

"Well, Colonel, you are just as persistent now as always. I take it you still want to combine forces to locate Peck?"

"You know we stand a better chance of getting him than you do, General. We know him a lot better than you do. We know how he thinks and how he's going to react. And we don't underestimate him."

"Oh I don't underestimate the lieutenant's talents, Colonel. I may find him a contemptible bit of humanity, a petty con artist and a liar, but I fully appreciate the other talents he possesses. Obviously."

Were it not for Hannibal's restraining hands, Stockwell would have found himself minus a few vital pieces of anatomy. Smith could feel Murdock trembling with rage; BA had lightning glaring from his eyes. Stockwell seemed unfazed.

"You might want to bear this in mind, Stockwell. We're not doing this out of concern for you. If that were our only interest, you'd be as good as dead. In fact, we'd probably do it ourselves. Keeping you alive is only a consequence of keeping Face safe."

"I'll remember that, Colonel. So," he moved behind his desk, "you think you can stop Peck from getting to me, eh? How do you plan on doing that?"

"We're going to set a trap, of course. Not here. We don't want Face anywhere near here. All we need from you is some kind of code word. Something related to his 'trip' that only you and he would understand. We'll take it from there."

Stockwell considered. He would be able to keep track of the team; he didn't consider that a problem. If he were to play along with them, he could let them do the trapping and then his people could come in for the wet work. Much easier and neater. He liked neatness.

"Very well, Colonel. I'll give you one chance at it. You want a 'code word'? Try 'irrevocably'. I'm quite sure he'll remember that one."

He hadn't waited around after the men had been taken away. He knew where Stockwell was. That's all he needed. In another day or two, Stockwell would know for sure he was back in Langley. Things would start getting ugly then. The general may appear to be in hiding, but his Ables - with help from others - would be looking for him. Hard.

He made little pretense at stealth on the way back to his car. Everyone in this new compound would undoubtedly be involved with the team at the moment. He retraced his route, slowly passing the van once more. He pulled to a stop. It wouldn't hurt to know where these three were over the next few days.

He slipped quickly from his car and crossed to the van. Picking the driver's door lock, he swiftly stuck his own little device under the driver's seat and relocked the door. He tried not to notice the lingering cigar smoke. He immediately returned to his car and headed back into Langley. He had much to do.